


Super Elastic Collisions

by Magical_Destiny



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Is a Good Bro, Brucenat - Freeform, F/M, Pepperony - Freeform, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Destiny/pseuds/Magical_Destiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of oneshots centered around Pepper Potts' relationship with Bruce Banner. She notices a lot about Bruce over the years, from his tendency to babysit Tony to his subtle crush on the Black Widow. From the first conversation, Pepper knew she was going to like this guy. BruceNat and Pepperony. Post-IM3 to post-AoU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet and Greet

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to blueincandescence for her suggestions both practical and grammatical (the latter of which which was sorely needed for those of us who took English roughly a million years ago).

_**Super elastic collision: the collision between particles in which the total kinetic energy of the system is greater after the collision than before.**_

Tony's music invaded her dreams before finally shaking her out of sleep altogether, and Pepper Potts woke with the uneasy mixture of confusion and irritation buzzing in her head. The sun had was just starting to cut a line of fire where the curtains didn't quite meet, and she watched the thin ribbon of light grow brighter as she blinked and reached for her phone.

Her agenda was already sending her alerts, an alarming number of urgent emails had appeared as she slept, and she had an entire queue of missed texts.

It was only 7:30 in the morning. On New Year's Day, no less.

She groaned and surrendered her half-formed hope that the holiday might deter Stark Industries business from finding its way into her inbox. She had also been hoping that she might be granted a few disaster-free days to recuperate properly after the Extremis debacle and the surgeries she'd gone through only days before.

But this was the world of big business, so, naturally, no such luck.

Tony's side of the bed was cold beside her, and further inspection of her texts revealed that they were all from him.

_In the lab_

_It's one floor down_

_Breakfast?_

_Text me when you're up_

_I have a friend over, so don't accidentally burn your clothes off again_

_You need to meet him later, actually_

_If your clothes DO burn off, send pics xoxo_

Tony's spastic texts always made her forget her worries just long enough to smile; the moment passed and Pepper sighed and sat up. She hadn't quite adjusted to the layout of the newly minted Avengers Tower yet, but she could have identified the fact that Tony's lab was one floor beneath her own without his help. The way _Shoot to Thrill_ was aggressively vibrating its way through the floor kind of gave it away. She shuddered to think of what the volume must be like in the lab itself.

She tuned the distant music out and glanced again at the ribbon of sunlight cracking through the curtains to spill across the bed. A smile crept across her face. Even rudely awakened and faced with a pile of work, Pepper felt the deep stillness of _relief_ settle like an unshakable foundation behind her breastbone. The Extremis mess was over, Tony's nightmares were waning, and in these last few days his concentration hadn't always been on a distant point over the horizon. Between being forcibly infected with the Extremis virus and Tony blowing up most of his Iron Man suits, it had been one hell of a Christmas. But it was January 1st, and there were new beginnings all around.

She stretched, ignoring the way her nerves still tingled and burned with each movement. The Extremis effect was a little slow to fade. Tony had described the removal process as soaking spilled water from a carpet; it was slow and tedious, and required sustained effort. She reached for the pills she had been taking every morning as part of her treatment and tossed back the prescribed pair. Another day closer to being back to one hundred percent _not_ a genetically altered weapon. At least she wasn't accidentally burning her clothes off anymore, no matter what Tony liked to insinuate.

And that had only happened once in the first place, not that he was ever going to let her forget it. (In return, she was never going to let him forget that his exact words to her at the time were "That's hot," as she stood blazing in front of him.)

She slid out of the bed and pulled on a soft robe and slippers. It was a holiday and she was a recovering invalid, and she deserved a little relaxation. She decided that her clamoring inbox would keep for a few minutes, and went in search of Tony.

* * *

The music had served as a breadcrumb trail long enough to lead Pepper to the correct subsection of the lab suite on the floor below, but it fell suspiciously silent before she finally approached the door. Jarvis opened the security door before she asked, and she stepped into Tony's latest lab. It was almost as big as his lab space had been at the house in Malibu. Glass walls overlooked a multi-leveled living area on one side, and glass also made up a good portion of the floor, showcasing what she thought might be a darkened storage area below. She recognized all the trappings of Tony's workspaces; there were too many surfaces, and they still managed to be thoroughly covered and crammed with mechanical detritus. A few holographic images hovered above the shiny steel desk off to one side, displaying what looked like a three-dimensional blueprint. Pepper drifted closer.

"Tony?" a voice Pepper didn't recognize called from behind the desk. She belatedly remembered the text that mentioned "a friend" and glanced down at her robe and slippers with a grimace. Well, at least she had the invalid excuse if necessary…She set her face and put on an air of professional courtesy. Tony had very egalitarian taste in associates, so she could be facing anyone from a local mechanic to the next big investor for Stark Industries. The voice continued before she could introduce herself. "Can you hand me the, uh…" The man stood and stared at something beyond the desk in abstraction for a long moment before finally turning. He spotted her at last and blinked. "Oh," he said. "You must be Ms. Potts."

She didn't recognize him for several seconds; he'd had longer, curly hair in the pictures and videos Phil had brought from S.H.I.E.L.D. so long ago. His hair was cropped close to the scalp now and graying at the temples, barely long enough to stick out in a few directions, but it just managed to look slightly wild. There was a liberal amount of stubble along his jaw, but she wasn't sure if he was working on a beard or if she'd just caught him before his morning shave. The beard looked more likely, given the fact that he was dressed in jeans and a blue plaid button-down shirt with glasses dangling from the pocket. Despite the beard and the hair, she finally matched the face to the memory.

"And you must be Dr. Banner," she replied.

"Guilty," he admitted with a shrug that looked stiff enough to be painful. His smile was kind, however, and he came around the desk and reached out to shake her hand.

The hand he extended was covered in black engine grease up to the forearm. Bruce realized the problem at the same moment she did and retracted his hand with something that might have been intended as a smile but was more of a grimace.

"Right," he muttered, and she wasn't sure if he was addressing her or himself. "No handshake...but accept my greeting from afar," he added, with a nod in her direction. His smile was too embarrassed to belong on the face of a man over forty. If he was over forty. He looked younger than the hint of gray around his temples suggested. His eyes, too, carried the weight of more years than his face displayed. It was a strange contrast, the stiff kindness and the aged youth…

Pepper recognized distantly that if she let the silence go on any longer, it would become awkward.

"So," she started, "Are you —"

"The Incredible Hulk?" Bruce interjected. His expression had gone distant and blank, and his smile had frosted over. A touchy subject, then. After the news reports she'd seen, that wasn't surprising…but he certainly was quick enough to bring it up.

"Are you working on something with Tony," she corrected gently. "That's what I was going to ask." She smiled wanly and hoped it would be enough to communicate that she wasn't here to poke at things that weren't her business. (Even if she was privately hoping that Dr. Banner was no longer on the FBI's Most Wanted list…Tony didn't stop to think about those sorts of details, but she would have hell to pay if the board of Stark Industries found out that they had harbored a fugitive.)

Dr. Banner's shoulders were stiff again, but he managed to wrench his hand up to rub distractedly at his neck. "Oh," he commented quietly. "We're just tinkering, really. Working on his Iron Legion idea." He slid his hand away from his neck, leaving a liberal streak of grease on both neck and collar and they both winced. "Second shirt I've ruined this week," he muttered. "Another one bites the dust." She was prepared to be sympathetic, but he flashed a rueful smile and she laughed instead. His shoulders loosened at last.

"When did you get here?" Pepper asked. "I hope Tony didn't put off introducing me because he was distracted…"

"Oh no," Bruce answered immediately. "He just didn't want to bother you until you were up and around. He called me in about a week ago to consult on the Extremis situation, actually. I specialize in biochemistry, among other things…but you probably know that."

She _did_ vaguely remember seeing a list of Dr. Banner's accomplishments in one of Tony's files, but her distant memories were overridden by her surprise that he had been around for a week without her knowledge. He had to be the least intrusive tower guest on record. She was also taken aback that Tony had asked someone for help of his own free will. She glanced at him with new respect. "Well thank you for your help, Dr. Banner. I'm glad to not be setting things on fire anymore."

"Tony did most of the heavy lifting with the treatment," Bruce downplayed immediately. "He called in a whole team of experts. I was just backup."

He seemed determined not to be thanked. While humility was always a refreshing change of pace in her world, Pepper simply couldn't allow that. "Either way," she insisted, "thank you."

"So how are you feeling?" he continued after a moment, and she recognized the curiosity of a scientist and the easy bedside manner of a physician in his voice and expression. Another contrast—talking to Dr. Banner was a jarring study in opposites. She thought of the blurry videos of a raging green Hulk and thought that perhaps she shouldn't be surprised by that.

"I feel almost normal," she replied thoughtfully. "My body temperature is still a little high, and my nerves are a little haywire, but I'm improving every day."

"Well, your body scans looked great, last I saw…" He trailed off and turned a rather becoming shade of pink. "On the, uh, cellular level, I mean. The scan didn't show anything, uh…anything else." He sighed heavily and gave a frustrated smile. "Sorry. I don't have much of a way with words. Making a fool of myself is also one of my specialties, unfortunately."

Pepper waved off his words with a smile. "Please, Dr. Banner. I've spent years of my life with Tony Stark. If you think that you've said anything embarrassing, I'm here to tell you that you can think again." Dr. Banner grinned.

"Yeah, he's a…" His eyes unfocused and he gestured vaguely as he grappled for the right word. "… _colorful_ conversationalist."

"A kinder assessment than I usually hear. I think the most common term is 'son of a bitch.'"

Bruce was grinning again as he turned to pluck a cloth from the nearest countertop to scrub fruitlessly at the grease coating his hands like a second skin. The cloth went from white to black almost instantly, but Bruce's hands barely changed shade. He scrubbed anyway.

"Tony talks about you all the time," he commented absently.

Pepper wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or horrified. She settled on feeling both equally.

"I can only imagine what he must say," she said with a sigh.

"Oh no," Bruce corrected, a hint of distress showing in the lines around his eyes. "He talks about you like...like you're the sun and he's the moon. If we're being poetic." He tossed the ruined rag back onto the counter, and Pepper wondered if he was more at ease when he was distracted.

"I thought you said you didn't have a way with words," she commented after a moment. "And by all means, be poetic."

Bruce smiled and glanced over the desk at whatever-it-was that he had been so hard at work on.

"Am I keeping you from your work?" Pepper asked immediately.

"No, it's nothing that can't wait. That's the great thing about robots—they'll wait forever. Would you like to see?" He waved her over and she glanced over the desk at what looked like a twisted pile of scrap metal. The arrangement of the pieces suggested a head, torso, and limbs, so she supposed it was a good start. Bruce knelt beside the pile and adjusted one of the pieces absently.

"This is for his civilian protection force?" Pepper asked. Bruce nodded. "And you're helping…I thought you were a biochemist."

He shrugged. "Among other things. I always like to tinker."

It was no wonder he and Tony got along so well. Speaking of which…

"Where _is_ Tony?" she asked, glancing around the empty lab.

"He's bringing a few parts we need," Bruce answered, rising to his feet again.

"So you're the one who killed the music, then?"

"The second he walked out," Bruce answered evenly. "I like to be able to hear myself think, but Tony…" he trailed off and shrugged.

"AC/DC," she sighed.

"All day, every day," he agreed in a pained voice.

Pepper heard the lab door slide open behind her and Tony's voice arrived just ahead of him. "Worlds collide," he called across the lab as he deposited a bin bristling with metallic scraps on one of the counters. "Good morning, honey. How are you feeling?"

"I'm great, thanks for asking," Bruce answered with a smirk.

"Making things weird is _my_ thing, Bruce," Tony retorted. He kissed Pepper's cheek. "You didn't answer my texts," he said, and she heard the question within the statement.

"I was sleeping," she replied. "And then I came to look for you."

"Should've texted me. I would have gotten you breakfast," he complained, reaching for one of her hands with both of his.

She shrugged. "There's still time, if you're determined to be thoughtful."

"Square deal," he agreed, and smiled. "But first things first. Pepper, this is Dr. Bruce Banner, mild-mannered scientist by day and green rage monster by night. Bruce, this is the CEO of Stark Industries, and my much better half, Virginia Potts."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Potts," Bruce replied with a nod and a smile. The smile faded a little when he looked at Tony. "Do you have to make me sound like a werewolf?" he reproached with a sigh.

"I thought I made you sound like a superhero," Tony countered.

"A little bit of both," Pepper corrected, smiling at Bruce. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing. And you can call me Pepper."

"Thank you," he replied. His smile was warm, but she noticed that he didn't use her first name. So he was the type that required time to warm up to new people. That was alright — she could work with that.

Tony's hand brushed against her back as he slid past her and joined Bruce beside the half-assembled pile of robotics.

"I'll make good on the breakfast date in just a minute, Pepper," he promised. "Did you place the CPU yet?" he asked Bruce. Pepper could almost see the wheels in his head starting to spin.

"Yes, but I thought we should get the coolant system installed before we boot up so we don't run any unnecessary fire risks."

Tony hummed noncommittally. "Grab the box," he instructed Bruce as he knelt beside the metallic mess.

"The box?" Bruce asked dryly. "The one you brought and then left all the way over there?" But Tony wasn't listening. Bruce sighed and crossed the lab to retrieve it. He paused beside her on his return trip. "It was very nice to meet you," he said politely and Pepper was about to respond with the same rote etiquette when he lowered his voice and spoke again. "And thank you for not asking about the Other Guy. I appreciate it." Momentarily taken aback, Pepper blinked at him.

"It's…it's no problem," she replied in a tone subdued to match his. He smiled, and she noticed for the first time that his smile was cracked around the edges — a sad smile, even when it was genuine. She was abruptly glad that he was Tony's friend. Tony had the gift of forcing the people around him to have fun. They might be good for each other, she considered.

A plume of acrid smoke curled upward from behind the desk, and she heard Tony hiss in pain.

"Tell me you didn't try that without the coolant system," Bruce called, shutting his eyes and shaking his head with a look of martyrdom.

"Um…" was Tony's only reply.

"Tony, wait —"

"Tony, no —"

They spoke at the same time. Bruce smiled at her and murmured, "It's okay — I've got him," under his breath before disappearing behind the desk. The smoke cleared, the burning smell faded rather than intensifying, and Pepper decided that Tony and Bruce were definitely going to be good for each other. She also decided that she and Bruce Banner were going to get along just fine.

Satisfied that they weren't going to bring Avengers Tower to a fiery end, Pepper allowed her thoughts to stray back to her overstuffed email inbox. She slipped out of the lab and made it all the way back to their bedroom before she remembered that Tony had promised her breakfast. He might remember, eventually…but it couldn't hurt to have a little fun in the meantime.

_Breakfast?_ she sent first, followed swiftly by _Be careful playing with fire down there. If you burn your clothes off, send pics._


	2. A Friend in Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce moves into the newly-christened Avengers Tower, and Pepper is faced with both the negative press and the potential risks of living with the Incredible Hulk. But having Dr. Banner as a tower-mate is far different than she expects, and she realizes gradually that she may have found the best sort of friend, not only for Tony, but for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun with Science Bros shenanigans in this oneshot, and I may also have drowned in a sea of Pepperony feels. Let me know if I dragged any of you down with me. ;) And thanks again to blueincandescence for her amazing editing help. <3<3<3

Pepper’s habit of keeping one eye on the news cycle at all times had begun the moment she’d accepted the position of Tony Stark’s assistant. Keeping him informed of the latest headlines that involved the Stark name had been a full-time job on its own, not to mention all the damage control she’d done when sex tapes went viral or gossip rags struck a little too close to the truth. Managing the company was no less stressful than managing the man, but she didn’t miss the constant worrying over his reputation. His photo was usually accompanied by more flattering headlines these days. People loved a good superhero, after all.

People had a much harder time with Dr. Bruce Banner. 

“We’re taking you live to Avengers Tower, where eyewitnesses report seeing Bruce Banner, also known as ‘The Incredible Hulk,’ several times in recent days. Has the Hulk come to live right here in the heart of Manhattan?”

Pepper sighed at the wall-mounted television in her office and rubbed her temple to stave off the threatening headache. The parade of witnesses onscreen told tales of seeing Bruce in the area around the Tower. Most the stories were commonplace, just a quick encounter in the street, but a few people spun elaborate tales of close encounters of the Hulk kind. “His face turned green!” one young man insisted. “I got the hell out of there!”

“Has the Hulk found a new home? And are we safe if he has?” the reporter asked the camera solemnly. “More after the break.”

“Mute,” Pepper ground out, and the TV fell silent. The news reports weren’t wrong. Bruce _had_ just officially taken up residence in the Tower. Although she doubted very much that even half of the “witnesses” had actually seen him. Bruce had practically been a shut-in so far.

His residence was off to an inauspicious start with the obsessive news coverage. Since the story had broken hours earlier, she’d received stern phone calls from several members of the Stark Industries board, and when the phone wouldn’t stop ringing, she’d forbidden Jarvis from allowing any more calls from reporters. According to her last count, there were no less than five online petitions asking that Bruce Banner be officially asked to leave the city. There weren’t any petitions to to force him out, for obvious reasons. No one wanted to risk a Hulk incident in the city. Apart from those practical concerns, there were also those who remembered the Hulk’s help in the Battle of New York.

Of course, without aliens pouring from a portal in the sky, the Hulk started to look a lot less friendly. The public’s memory of heroics was short; memories of destruction and mayhem outlasted it. 

She found a certain amount of morbid amusement in the fact that Tony had finally escaped the media’s firing range only to make friends with a man who was an even better target. Irony Man might be a better name for him, she thought with a sigh. 

She just hoped that Tony wasn't wrong about the safety of inviting Bruce to live in the Tower. Even in her brief acquaintance with Dr. Banner, she had no doubts about his kindness and his good intentions, but accidents happened, and Pepper had always excelled at foreseeing and forestalling accidents. She hated to admit it, but the footage of a raging green beast tearing down buildings and decimating entire squads of soldiers didn't fill her with confidence about allowing him to live in their newly-rebuilt Tower in the center of one of the biggest cities in the world. 

“Ms. Potts?” Bruce’s voice drifted in from the doorway. She’d tried encouraging him to call her Pepper, but he hadn’t budged so far. She’d eventually given up, deciding that giving him time to adjust and relax was a sounder strategy than forcing the issue. After all, he still had a tendency to look like a student who had been exiled to the principal’s office when they were in a room together. She had never behaved badly towards him, but she didn’t take offense at his distant attitude. Discomfort as pronounced as his must have a long and complicated origin story, even without taking his literal alter ego into account. 

“Dr. Banner,” she answered him, just managing to keep her poor mood from leaking into her voice. His eyes were fixed on the TV screen, now displaying his photo underneath the header “The Hulk Takes Manhattan,” and the set of his jaw was grim. She suspected that he’d been there long enough to get an accurate read on her attitude. 

“How can I help you?” she asked, trying to salvage the conversation with an extra dose of cheerfulness. 

“I wanted to stop by and thank you for letting me stay here. Tony acts like it’s no big deal, but he’s…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Tony.” Pepper smiled knowingly and Bruce stepped closer. She pointedly ignored the footage of the Hulk smashing his way through Harlem that played just over his shoulder. “So, thank you,” he continued. “I appreciate it more than you know.” His voice was weighted down by almost as many shadows as his eyes. 

So he was immune to cheerfulness. She ignored the distant sympathetic pang in her chest, and waited. Bruce’s shoulders were stiff with purpose; he wasn’t finished yet.

“Ms. Potts, I’m grateful to be here, but if my presence becomes a problem for you, I want you to know that I’ll be happy to leave.” He looked anything but happy at the thought, but he spoke earnestly. Pepper wasn’t sure whether that made his words more sad or less. “You won’t be putting me out,” he continued, even though that was quite literally what she would be doing if she complied with his request. “There are plenty of places I can go, but Tony insisted. And you know what it’s like to argue with him.” A smile at last, faint and weary. The Hulk was still rampaging on the screen behind him, almost on Bruce’s shoulder now. His slightly crumpled stance made him look almost crushed beneath the image. 

“Bruce,” she replied, shaking off the discomfort she felt over using his first name when he had yet to use hers. “Make yourself at home.” Anyone else would have relaxed at the words of welcome; Bruce only looked more hunted. Very well, if he wanted honesty, she could supply that. “You’re Tony’s friend, so I’m happy to have you. If there is a problem, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” he replied, but his nod was more courtesy than conviction. When paired with his scruffy beard, the dark circles under his eyes made Bruce look like a man who hadn’t slept in days. As he slipped silently from her office, casting one final look at the headlines screaming across the television, Pepper wondered whether that impression might be a correct one.

* * *

Pepper stood frozen in front of Tony’s lab. The sound leaking from under the door had stopped her in her tracks. She could almost swear that she was hearing…

… _opera._

“Jarvis,” she finally managed, “Open the door, please.”

The security doors slid aside, and Pepper stepped in, glancing around warily. If Tony was listening to opera, she was taking him to his psychiatrist immediately. There wasn’t much in the world that he hated more than the opera.

“Tony?” Bruce’s voice called over the clear sound of a soprano’s voice.

Pepper breathed a sigh of relief. No mental health emergencies today, then. 

“Afraid not,” she answered, stepping forward to find Bruce planted in front of a bank of monitors with flashing displays. As usual, Bruce’s look shifted into that of a student expecting a ruler across the knuckles. 

As usual, she wondered why he always folded in on himself when she entered a room.

“Tony’s not here,” he explained, even though the lab was clearly empty besides the two of them. “Uh, Jarvis, can you kill the music?”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

The soprano’s voice hung in the air like a strand of delicate spider’s web for a moment longer. Pepper belatedly realized that she recognized the melody just before it fell into silence. 

“ _Norma_?” she asked.

“Yes,” Bruce replied, and Pepper noticed a faint spark of something besides dread in his eyes. Well, that was a relief; he’d been wrapped in pensive gloom for days. She pursued the hint of light.

“I didn’t realize you were an opera enthusiast. You don’t seem nearly dramatic enough,” she offered with a teasing smile.

Bruce gave a brief, dry laugh and ducked his head reflexively as he returned the smile. “Well, not dramatic enough for Wagner, maybe. But I can always go for _bel canto._ ” 

“A man of sensitive taste,” Pepper approved. “I like it.”

His flash of openness was already fading away, and his shoulders started to tense again. Pepper acted quickly. 

“Tony has a box at the Met that he never uses. If you want, I can see about putting you on the list of approved guests.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh. That would be — I would — _yes._ If it’s not a problem for you, I mean.” He smiled self-consciously, embarrassed by his excitement, and Pepper thought that he really ought to smile more. It lifted the shadows around his eyes, and eased his air of weariness.

“It’s no problem at all. I’ll make sure you’re allowed in by yourself, unless you’re feeling especially confident about getting Tony to go with you. But I’ll warn you — I’ve never managed it.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t seem the type,” Bruce answered with a laugh.

“Let me know if you’re able to make it happen.” She paused and collected her wits to approach the topic she had actually come down to discuss. “I’m leaving for a conference in Tokyo tomorrow,” she started, easing into the subject casually. “So I won’t be here to see the miracle if it takes place.”

“I’ll let you know,” Bruce replied. “I certainly owe you a favor.” The smile was just beginning to look more natural on his face.

“Actually,” Pepper began carefully, suddenly reluctant to drive the hesitant smile away. She hoped fervently that he wouldn’t mistake her meaning when she asked the question she was leading up to. “I do have a favor to ask. How much has Tony told you about what he’s been…” She grappled for a set of words that wouldn’t betray Tony’s trust. “…going through?” she settled on at last.

“You mean the PTSD?” he answered calmly.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” Pepper said with a rush of relief.

“I gathered that he was having some issues when I came to see him during your recovery. But he also told me.”

Tony spilling the beans on a deeply personal issue — _that_ was new. Pepper was momentarily surprised into silence, and Bruce spoke into the empty moment without prompting.

“He talked at me for two solid hours. And then got upset when I fell asleep.” Another smile, sheepish this time.

Pepper’s concerns dissolved temporarily when she laughed aloud. “Completely understandable. Tony’s style of storytelling leaves a lot to be desired,” she commiserated. “But I’m just glad he talked to someone. He’s a talker, but not usually one to confide. You’re one of the few.” She wondered if she would gain respect for Bruce every time she spoke with him. So far, he had a nearly perfect record in that arena. 

Bruce looked surprised, but he nodded. “So,” he prompted after a moment. “The favor?” Her absent worries returned in force. 

“This is my private number,” Pepper said, passing him one of her cards. “If Tony isn’t doing well, will you call me, please? He doesn’t always take care of himself and I’m not sure he’d tell me if he was having a hard time.” 

Bruce’s expression shifted instantly from curiosity into reservation, and Pepper moved quickly to explain. “I’m not asking you to spy on him,” she clarified, and she was so glad to see that Bruce’s first instinct was caution and reticence. “If you see him struggling, just tell him to call me. Or call me yourself so I can check on him. He’s been doing better. I just…” She sighed and held back her growing dread that her absence might cause Tony some difficulties, and just when he was making progress with his recovery. “I don’t want to leave him right now, but I don’t have a choice,” she added quietly. 

Bruce considered for a long moment before offering a muted nod. “I can do that.” 

For the first time in weeks, Pepper felt a stronger sense of security about getting on the plane to Tokyo. “Thank you, Bruce. I appreciate it more than you know.” He never seemed to give much credit to words alone, so she offered him a smile and hoped he could read the truth of her words in her eyes. She was satisfied when his face softened.

“Happy to help,” he said quietly.

His earnestness and her own relief tempted her to give him a hug, but nothing about Bruce had led her to believe that he would be remotely comfortable with that level of familiarity. When the lingering tension in his shoulders dissuaded her from attempting a handshake, Pepper simply nodded before turning to leave. “I won’t forget the opera tickets,” she called over her shoulder.

The doors shut on Bruce’s smile.

* * *

Jetlag was the single most difficult part of traveling to the far reaches of the globe on Stark Industries business. Pepper had always been able to operate on little to no sleep — that was, after all, a non-negotiable job requirement of working with Tony Stark — but the brutal thirteen-hour shift of the clock made the first few days in Tokyo a nightmare. It also made it very difficult to find the time to call Tony. They were divided by oceans, time zones, Pepper’s demanding schedule, and, if Tony was to be believed, even higher powers.

“Fate is against us,” Tony had moaned melodramatically in his first voicemail. When the first voicemail was joined by ten others while Pepper slept, she called him back and left a message of her own. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate eleven three-minute excerpts from what sounded like one long speech, but maybe there’s a better way for us to communicate. I’ll text you my schedule every day and then you’ll know when to call me. If you’re really desperate, you could always make me a video diary,” she joked, hanging up the phone. (And missing him fiercely.) 

She ought to have known better than to thoughtlessly joke with the master of comebacks. The first video appeared in her inbox an hour later.

* * *

“Okay, video diary number five. Hi, Pepper. Today we will be attempting a test of the Veronica model —“

“Tony, do we have to call it —“

“Banner, you’re ruining the moment. Also, I would like to state for the record that Veronica is a machine, not a woman. I’m a very good boy, honey.”

“Well, _I_ would like to state for the record that I would like this machine to have a different name.”

“Sorry, I just dozed off for a second because I was thinking of alternative names and they were all so mind-numbingly _boring._ Let the record reflect that Bruce is wrong. Anyway, get ready to be amazed, Pepper.”

It was 6AM in Tokyo, and Pepper had just found another installment in Tony’s never-ending video saga waiting in her inbox. He kept inventing subjects for videos — experiments, meals, conversations with Bruce — and sending them off with very little attempt at editing or coherence. 

He did, however, end each video with an “I love you,” and he looked happy enough wrapped up in his projects, so Pepper didn’t complain. She was also secretly happy to have the chance to see his face every day, although she certainly wasn’t going to tell _him_ that.

Onscreen, Tony and Bruce stood on either side of the central table in Tony’s lab, staring down at what looked like a stocky toy robot. Tony eyed it intently, sliding some type of remote control from the table and taking a single step back. That alone stoked Pepper’s concern; Tony was _not_ cautious. On the other side of the table, Bruce had completely backed out of frame.

“Tony…” she warned, despite the fact that he was halfway across the world and couldn’t hear her. 

“Okay, power up,” Tony muttered, manipulating the remote carefully. The eyes of the squat figure lit up, and a few indicators on the chest plate blinked to life. “So far, so good.” He paused to tap purposefully at a screen beside him. “Power levels?”

“Looking good,” Bruce’s distant voice replied. 

“You going to watch from all the way over there?”

“Yep,” Bruce answered cheerfully.

Tony clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Have it your way. But just remember: necessity is the mother of invention.”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“It’s necessary for me to stand close enough to see this test,” Tony answered loftily. 

“Well, it’s definitely necessary for me to take cover over here,” Bruce replied. “And you should at least take a few steps back. How will Pepper feel if you blow yourself up?” 

Tony’s stubbornness finally cracked and he took another grudging step back. “I’m whipped,” he sighed and winked at the camera. Pepper couldn’t quite help her smile.

“Okay, let’s take Veronica for a test flight. Propulsion test one.” He pressed a button and looked at the miniature robot expectantly. 

There was nothing but silence. 

Tony growled in frustration and abandoned his previous distance to glare at the robot up close. “Jarvis,” he ground out. “Diagnostics.” Bruce reappeared, hesitantly examining the collection of wires trailing from an open panel in the robot’s casing. 

“Tony, I’m not sure —“ 

The screen froze, flickered, and after a disconcerting moment of garbled white noise, refocused on the lab. Or where the lab would have been, if not for the obscuring cloud of smoke. Pepper felt a single instant of blind panic, and snatched up her phone to call Tony, but his cough filtered through the static at last and she breathed again. 

“Test one unsuccessful,” he wheezed. 

“What led you to that conclusion?” rasped Bruce’s voice between coughs. The smoke cleared enough for Pepper to make out their silhouettes. “Tony,” Bruce asked in a voice roughened from coughing. “Is Jarvis still programmed to auto-send your videos?”

The Tony silhouette froze. “Oh, _sh_ —“

The recording broke off abruptly, and Pepper checked the timestamp. She was watching footage that had been filmed mere minutes earlier. 

Her phone buzzed, and two new text messages appeared on the screen. Tony’s read simply: _Disregard latest video. Bad quality. Fate is against me ever winning my best documentary Oscar. (I would have thanked you in the speech.)_

The second was from Bruce. _Re: the latest video. Tony’s fine. Thruster almost caused a fire, but lab is intact, building is fine, Tony’s not hurt…yet. Thinking of hitting Tony very hard. Please advise._

And he ended the message with an honest to God _smiley face_.

Afterward she blamed the cumulative exhaustion of jetlag, but Pepper laughed until she cried.

* * *

“Video diary — what number is this, Jarvis?”

“Twenty-five, sir.”

“Twenty-five. Hi, Pepper.”

Tony sat in nearly absolute darkness, a halo of pale light from the computer screen illuminating his face. His eyes were dull and his shoulders slumped; he looked drained and exhausted. A nightmare, Pepper thought grimly. Or a flashback. 

“This is probably going to be the worst video I have ever sent you, but my Oscar dreams are dead anyway, so I guess that’s alright.” He gave a parody of his usual dismissive shrug, but the hollow look in his eyes made her heart clench. “You always know everything, so I’m assuming you can already tell that I can’t sleep tonight. Nightmares.” He gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his face convulsively, blinking as though trying to focus. When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper.

“I wish you were here, Pep.” 

Pepper chewed her lip to control the tears that suddenly threatened, and pressed her fingertips to her tablet, resting them against his face on the screen. Suddenly the distance between them _ached_. 

“Sorry to get sappy on you,” Tony continued, dragging in a shaky breath. “I would’ve saved us both the grief and bought you another giant bunny instead of this,” — he broke off to gesture between himself and the camera — “but I remembered that you said something about _emotions_ and _communication_ being preferable to stuffed animals. I still don’t buy that, but okay. See? I do listen sometimes.” He managed a smile, and Pepper gave a watery laugh. She reached for her phone, intending to call him the moment the video ended, time zones be damned, but the screen flooded with light and she glanced back. 

Onscreen, Tony was shading his eyes and blinking in consternation as the lab’s full array of fluorescent lights turned the room dazzling. “Bruce, you could warn a guy before you blind him.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here.” Bruce’s voice drifted in from the side. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t know, why are _you_ awake?” Tony retorted. Bruce finally wandered into frame, wearing his lab coat and a tired expression. 

“Tony,” he started with in a heavy voice, but Pepper swore he was holding back a grim smile. “I’m always awake.”

“Yeah, well, me too. Apparently,” Tony grumbled, and jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Bruce’s expression shifted into concern.

“Are you okay?” 

“Peachy,” Tony deflected instantly. Bruce hovered uncertainly for a moment, looking very unconvinced. 

“Hungry?” he asked Tony after a moment, offering the plastic bag he held in one hand. Tony recoiled. 

“What are those, baby carrots? That’s the worst midnight snack I’ve ever seen. Are you a man or a rabbit, Banner?”

Bruce just shrugged good-naturedly. “Suit yourself.” He watched Tony surreptitiously as he worked his way through the bag of carrots. 

“You’re making another video for Pepper?” he asked in-between bites. 

“No, I’m making a documentary on the horrible eating habits of Bruce Banner. And were you working in here?” He changed gears without missing a beat. Bruce looked slightly whiplashed, but he didn’t object to Tony’s rapid fire shifts or his snippiness. “I didn’t realize you were having a slumber party in my lab. And without _me_.” Tony complained.

“I didn’t know you were up,” Bruce answered with a shrug. “And how did you miss that I had been in here? I left the lights on when I stepped out. And I left the music playing.”

Pepper could just make out a hint of something operatic in the background. Tony’s face soured onscreen. “I wondered what that unholy wailing was,” he muttered. “I thought my demons had formed a choir to serenade me.” 

Bruce sighed and shook his head, but Pepper caught both the hint of amusement in his twitching lips and the undercurrent of worry in his knit brow. He regarded Tony in silence for a long moment. His eyes fell directly on the camera at last and he offered a vague wave before drifting to a countertop at the edge of her line of sight. 

“Unholy wailing…” Bruce mused from the side of the screen. “Does that mean that you’ve decided against going to the Met with me?” Tony looked directly into the camera and pulled a face reminiscent of a child faced with an entire plate of broccoli.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna pass.” He smirked at the camera in a self-satisfied way, and Pepper was relieved to see a little more light in his eyes. Behind him, Bruce leaned into frame and pulled a face of his own. 

“I tried,” he mouthed, and gave an exaggerated shrug before sliding back to the edge of the camera’s view. He reappeared a moment later and deposited the bag of carrots on a stool near Tony’s elbow. He flashed the camera a look that she would have described as conspiratorial if it weren’t so impossible to associate the word with Bruce. But he held up his right hand, index and middle fingers tightly crossed, and she realized with a shock that conspiratorial was _exactly_ the right word.

Tony glanced in Bruce’s direction too late to see the intrigue. Pepper watched his hollow, haunted look finally dissolve as his eyebrows contracted with interest. “What are you working on over there?” Bruce’s explanation was a string of nonsense in Pepper’s ears, but Tony’s look of delight made her love the project anyway. 

“I’ve got to go, honey. Bruce needs me to help him, like usual.” Bruce turned towards the screen to raise his eyebrow and shake his head, but he was smiling. Oblivious, Tony continued. “I love you. Talk soon.” Tony stood, and absently grabbed a couple of carrots from the bag as he moved offscreen. Bruce leaned into frame and gave her a discreet thumbs up. His grin appeared and dissolved at almost the same moment, but Pepper had seen just enough to confidently label it goofy. 

“Jarvis, kill the feed,” said Tony’s voice. The screen went dark, and Pepper had her second experience with the urge to hug Bruce Banner. 

Pepper glanced down at her phone. It was 5AM in New York, so hopefully Tony was asleep. As much as she wanted to call him, she opened a text message instead.

 _I like sappy. Call me when you wake up_ , she sent. After a moment’s contemplation, she typed a final message. _Two days until I’m home._

To Bruce, she simply sent _Thank you._

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Pepper finally set foot in Avengers Tower two days later, with only Jarvis to greet her. 

“Welcome back, Ms. Potts. I believe Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are in the lounge on your floor.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” she replied, vacillating between irritation over the fact that Tony hadn’t come to meet her and worry over why that might be. Of course, he usually defied logic, so she refused to speculate. Instead, she let her mind turn over just how wonderful it would be to kiss Tony after a week of separation. She stared hard at the elevator’s floor light on the ride up. 

The lounge was darkened when she arrived, the click of her heels announcing her approach. She was faced with a completely unexpected tableau: Tony stretched out on one half of the plush, L-shaped sofa, an arm draped over his eyes, and a blanket tossed unevenly over his torso. He was fast asleep. Bruce reclined on the other half of the sofa, and his glasses flashed silver-white in the light of the TV screen as he turned to look at her. 

“Hi,” she whispered, and Bruce echoed her quietly. “Is he okay?” she asked, her eyes falling on Tony again.

Bruce stood up and muted the television. The black-and-white images onscreen offered the only illumination in the dim room and Pepper blinked in surprise. “You got him to watch a movie without color?” she asked. “How’d you manage that?”

“We made a deal,” Bruce whispered in explanation. “We each pick a movie to watch. Turns out that anything without color puts him right to sleep. It’s been a useful discovery these past couple of days since he hasn’t been sleeping well.” 

“Has he been eating? Thanks for making sure he got his vegetables, by the way.”

“Mostly. And you’re welcome.” A hint of that ridiculous grin appeared.

“Therapy?”

“He went.”

Pepper released a long sigh and brushed her fingers lightly through Tony’s hair, careful not to wake him. She’d kiss him awake in a moment, but first she had something to take care of. She took two slow steps forward, deliberately allowing Bruce to see her intent, to step away if he wanted. He looked awkward, but he didn’t shuffle away, so Pepper hugged him lightly. “Bruce,” she said, her chin on his shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”

It took him a moment to relax, but his shoulders finally loosened under her fingertips. “Thanks, Pepper.”

“Finally,” she muttered as she stepped back from the embrace. “Why did it take you so long to use my name?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were just being polite,” he explained, pulling his glasses from his face. When he began folding and unfolding the legs, she suspected he was just looking for something to do with his hands.

“We’re roommates now. I think a little informality is okay.” But Pepper’s smile faded when his began to slip. “What?” she prompted. 

“I wasn’t sure that was going to be permanent. The press is on your back, and I’ve been thinking that it might be best if I go.” The words came out quickly, almost rehearsed. He was starting to fold in on himself again, and Pepper abruptly recognized the defensiveness of that reaction. She’d never before known someone who defended themselves so rigorously against hope. 

“Bruce,” she interjected firmly. “You can do what you like. But please know that you’re very welcome here. And let me make this crystal clear — I’m _not_ just being polite.” He relaxed just a fraction, but Pepper was learning that when it came to Bruce Banner, the little things spoke volumes. 

“Pepper?” Tony’s groggy voice interrupted their conference, and Pepper felt a smile come over her face of its own volition. 

“I was going to wake you up with a kiss,” she complained, kneeling beside his face. 

“Sleeping Beauty,” Tony sighed. “That’s me.” Bruce laughed behind her, and Pepper smiled and leaned down to kiss Tony at last.

* * *

The next morning, a particularly tenacious reporter managed to get a call through to her office by skillfully falsifying their caller ID. 

“Ms. Potts,” the pushy voice insisted, rattling off a name and credentials too quickly for her to retain them. “What do you say to the reports that Dr. Banner is living in Avengers Tower? What do you say to those calling for Dr. Banner’s removal from the city? Your statement, please.”

Why anyone imagined that she would respond to such tactics was beyond her. She had every intention of hanging up the phone without a word, but the voice added: “Bruce Banner is counted among the greatest threats facing —“

“Dr. Banner is not a threat,” Pepper interrupted with the icy anger she usually reserved for board meetings gone wrong. “Don’t call me again.” She cut the call and swiveled her office chair toward her floor to ceiling windows and the view of the glittering city in the midday sun. The world spun on with its judgments and opinions, despite any changes in her own. People were always going to have a hard time with Bruce Banner. 

She knew this, but it was still strange to hear him being so casually thrown under the wheels of the media bus after living with the man. The footage of the Hulk seemed even grainier and less distinct in her memory, even further away and harder to touch. Bruce Banner was dangerous, the world screamed. Bruce Banner was the Incredible Hulk. 

In the past few days, Pepper had almost forgotten.


	3. Along Came a Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is working full-time with the Avengers as they fight to take down Hydra bases all over the world. Most of the team lives in the Tower, including Pepper’s former assistant Natalie Rushman AKA Natasha Romanoff. Pepper is prepared to let bygones be bygones, but when she notices the closeness developing between Natasha and Dr. Bruce Banner, she can’t help but be concerned. After all, the name Black Widow doesn’t exactly inspire trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks, as always, to blueincandescence, editor extraordinaire and my partner in BruceNat writing crime. <3

The wall clock chimed nine times and Pepper glanced at her phone, relieved when the digital time was in agreement.

She had exactly thirty minutes before she needed to be in the car and on her way to the airport. Her assistant and her bags were meeting her there for a scheduled week-long stint at the Stark Industries Headquarters in Los Angeles. While Tony had allocated an entire floor of Avengers Tower for her use when he’d converted the building from its original Stark Industries purposes, she still had to make it out to the West Coast on a regular basis. 

With the functional nexus of the company in LA, downsizing the New York office space hadn’t been much of a change, in the end. Tony had always treated the New York tower as more of an expanded private office anyway, with the laboratories that he gleefully called Candyland and the extensive private floors. Now fully rebuilt and remodeled after the destruction of the Battle of New York a few years earlier, the Tower had gradually become home to most of the Avengers. She lived in the Tower, too, whenever she made the trek to New York to visit Tony. Dividing her time between the East and West Coasts was draining, but with Tony’s work with the Avengers rapidly turning into a full-time commitment, she had little choice. His old habit of dropping everything to visit her just wasn’t an option these days.

Pepper cleared her desk, checked her phone, and felt certain that she was prepared to face the Stark Industries board. Naturally, the moment her mind cleared of business concerns, she worried about Tony.

“Jarvis,” she called to the empty office. 

“Yes, Ms. Potts?” the AI’s voice immediately answered. 

“Will you ask Tony if he’s eaten today?” Jarvis was sometimes a more reliable means of communication with Tony than his phone. His phone could be forgotten, turned off, or ignored — and it frequently was — but Jarvis was everywhere in the Tower. Her own phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced at it. Just her assistant checking in. Twenty-five minutes until she needed to be in the car. “Oh, and Jarvis? Show me where he is right now.”

Her computer screen lit up as Jarvis answered. “Yes, Ms. Potts.”

She leaned forward and found herself watching the security cam feed from Tony’s lab. Bruce Banner was facing the camera as he stood at one of the terminals, tapping away at a swirling schematic on the screen. Tony was nowhere in sight. 

“Sir.” Jarvis’ voice emanated from her speakers. Normally the security footage didn’t have an accompanying audio recording, but Jarvis could broadcast through his own speaker system upon request. She’d forgotten to ask for audio, but Jarvis had anticipated her. In moments like this, she entertained the thought of forgoing human assistants entirely and retaining Jarvis in the position. Of course, Tony wouldn’t much care for that idea. Jarvis was his pride and joy. 

“Yeah?” Tony’s voice came from somewhere beyond the camera’s line-of-sight. 

“Ms. Potts is inquiring about whether you’ve had breakfast.”

It was Bruce who answered. “No, he hasn’t. Tony, I need to move,” he added. Pepper leaned toward the screen in confusion. 

“Jarvis, hold that thought. One second, Bruce,” came Tony’s muffled voice at last. His head appeared over Bruce’s shoulder and he pulled a sheet of paper away from where he had laid it flat across Bruce’s back. “See? You were a great clipboard.”

“You know, if you’d just clean up in here you might have some space for writing — ”

“You’re all I need, Bruce.” 

Bruce just sighed and turned toward the rightmost monitor in the trio of screens that flared around him. 

“Sorry, Jarvis,” Tony called as he studied his sheet of paper. “You were saying?”

“Ms. Potts — ”

“Right, breakfast. Is she asking me on a breakfast date? I thought she was about to leave.” He looked up from his work hopefully, and Pepper felt an involuntary smile spread across her face. They’d said goodbye earlier that morning, and he had been even more morose about her departure than usual. Tony was the biggest trial her patience had ever endured, but his flashes of unconfined sweetness always struck her straight through the heart. She could never say as much, for fear of feeding an ego that was already burning out of control, but he had his moments as a boyfriend.

“I believe she’s checking on your eating habits, sir,” Jarvis replied and Pepper laughed quietly at the annoyance that passed over Tony’s face like a storm cloud. Her smile faded when his annoyance melted into disappointment. 

She was going to miss him, too.

“In that case, tell her I ate a long time ago and it was delicious and she missed out,” he answered loftily, and joined Bruce at the monitor. The feed went dark as Jarvis’ voice rang in the office around her. 

“He asked me to give you a message, Ms. Potts.”

“So I heard. Thank you, Jarvis.”

She glanced at her phone. Twenty minutes.

Pepper burned five minutes taking the elevator down to the lab and walking to the security door. She didn’t have time for this. 

But Tony was never one to take care of himself and she was about to abandon him for a week. Besides, she had forgotten to remind Bruce to keep an eye on him. Bruce had a certain amount of value as a babysitter, she’d discovered over the years. He filled the voice-of-reason role that Tony so desperately needed in close proximity to himself at all times, even if he _did_ have the unfortunate tendency to give in to some of Tony’s more reckless schemes. The regular screeching of the Tower’s fire alarm was a testament to that.

She also suspected that Tony relied on Bruce’s company when she was away, but she couldn’t exactly mention that directly — they would both deny it on the spot. So she would speak indirectly and hope they absorbed her meaning. Surely the Odd Couple of science could handle a little osmosis. 

“Jarvis?” she asked with an upward glance at the door camera. The doors unlocked and slid open with a faint hiss. 

“Pepper?” It was Bruce who greeted her. 

He had changed quite a bit during his lengthening time in the Tower; she still remembered the close-cropped hair, the stiff set of his shoulders, and the air of exhaustion he’d carried with him like a permanent limp in the early days. These days the doctor looked much more at ease. He no longer moved as if his muscles were locked, no longer looked like a man deep in the grips of insomnia. His hair had grown longer, as if relaxing along with his posture and demeanor, and the length mostly covered the hints of gray that threaded the dark curls. It had taken months of acquaintance, but she’d realized eventually that Bruce was a handsome man. The fact had been easy to miss when she first knew him; good looks relied on attitude more than a little and Bruce had been full of discomfort and tension in the early days. Now, however, she thought that Bruce could break a few hearts without half trying. Especially sporting that smile. 

Bruce turned from the monitor and directed the smile in question at her. It was an easy, genuine smile that she’d only become familiar with after knowing him for some time. He and Tony were a good match in more ways than one. First and foremost, they were both very difficult to _really_ know. Except, perhaps, for each other. And maybe for her, too.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Bruce continued with a sly smile. “Tony gets so clingy when you’re away.”

The glare Tony directed at Bruce transformed itself into a smile by the time it landed on her. He stepped towards her and wrapped her in a hug. “Pep, if you’ll feel between my shoulder blades, I think you’ll find a dagger, courtesy of Bruce. Pull it out for me, would you?”

“Well I took a pen to the back just a minute ago, and the pen is mightier than the sword…” Bruce trailed off with a grin. Pepper sighed at the two of them.

“Jarvis told me you skipped breakfast again,” she said as Tony stepped away. His smile froze, but didn’t slip. 

“Jarvis,” he asked in a tone much too sweet. “I thought we had anti-snitch protocols in place.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why,” Tony continued, enunciating just a little too clearly. “Did you tell on me?”

“Ms. Potts saw the video feed, sir. And if you’ll remember, you granted her administrative access to my functions equal to your own. I’m afraid I did exactly as she told me.”

Bruce had turned back to his work, but Pepper caught the silent shake of his shoulders as he laughed. The sigh Tony had been holding back escaped at last, and he sent a pained look at the ceiling as he shook his head. “Why do you do this to me, Jarvis? I pay you too much for this.”

“Because you ask me to, sir. And may I point out that you don’t pay me at all?”

“Details, details,” Tony said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Does no one value loyalty anymore?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. My loyalty protocol has always been one hundred percent.”

“Jarvis, I’m starting to think that your smart-ass protocol is also one hundred percent,” Tony muttered.

“I shall take that as a compliment, sir.” 

“I wonder where he gets that?” Pepper asked, raising an eyebrow. Tony’s irritation finally slid away and he reached for her hands. 

“Did you really come down here just to feed me?” he asked, his voice somewhere between fondness and irritation. She recognized the tone easily; she directed the very same tone at Tony on a regular basis. 

“I came down here to remind you to take care of yourself while I’m gone.” She was sure she sounded like a meddler, but she knew Tony understood all that she meant. They had established a policy of more open communication after the Extremis crisis and Tony’s PTSD diagnosis. It had taken years of therapy and steady recovery, but he was in much better shape these days. Waking up in a cold sweat or going hollow-eyed from a sudden flashback were extremely rare events for him now, and Pepper was determined to keep it that way. He might be recovering from his symptoms, but she had never quite recovered from the guilt of missing them when they first appeared. So she looked him in the eyes and insisted quietly, “Promise me that you will take care of yourself.”

She saw the moment Tony let the indignation drain away. He nodded. “I promise.” She smiled and kissed his cheek, using the embrace to bring her lips to his ear. 

“Call me if you need anything. If you have a nightmare — anything.” She felt his nod. “I’ll miss you,” she added at a normal volume and pulled back to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

“I’ll get started on those good habits,” Tony said with the smile she loved best, the soft smile that he had only ever directed at her. “Bruce,” he called over his shoulder. “Let’s get some breakfast. He hasn’t eaten anything today either,” he explained with the smug satisfaction of a tattletale. 

“Bruce,” Pepper reprimanded. “You know I rely on you to be the sensible one. Especially while I’m gone.” She hoped he would take the hint. But she was distracted from the thought when Bruce winced like a scolded child. It took her a significant effort not to laugh out loud. 

“Yeah, about that,” he said, rubbing absently at his neck. She noted the hint of tension in his shoulders with surprise. “I have breakfast plans.”

“What?” Tony asked in indignation. “ _You_ have _plans_?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Bruce muttered.

“You never have plans,” Tony protested. “What are these plans? Am I going to have to eat _by myself_?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said the voice of Natasha Romanoff behind her. 

Tony started, recovered, and sighed. “Don’t you knock, Romanoff?”

“Not when the door’s wide open,” she replied flatly. “Hello, Ms. Potts.”

“Agent Romanoff.” She supposed that the title “agent” was unnecessary now that SHIELD was defunct and Natasha was essentially freelancing with the Avengers, but courtesy was always convenient. Especially when dealing with one’s former assistant who had wriggled their way into one’s orbit in order to flirt with and surveil one’s boyfriend. Pepper didn’t care to untangle her feelings about that entire debacle; if it wasn’t for Phil Coulson, she might have given up on ever working with SHIELD after finding out that her assistant was one of the agency’s super spies. But SHIELD had saved Tony’s life thanks in no small part to Agent Romanoff, and the woman had made an effort to be pleasant to her, so Pepper was willing to let go of bygones and try again. She’d had no reason to regret that decision so far.

It was still strange to see Natasha Romanoff after working with Natalie Rushman, however. Natalie had been coolly professional, sharply if provocatively dressed, and afflicted with a bad case of bedroom eyes framed by long, immaculately styled curls. Natasha’s clothing of choice operated on a scale of sneakers and hoodies to jeans and boots, and her hair was shorter, loose, and straight. She was less rigid than Natalie in body and mind — but with a sharper tongue. She was so used to hearing darts from Natasha in place of conversation that she blinked in surprise when Natasha’s eyes flicked to Bruce and she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Bruce replied, shrugging off his lab coat to reveal a plaid button-up shirt in shades of green. 

“So you’re ditching me,” Tony asked in disbelief. “To talk shop with Romanoff?”

“Goodbye, Tony,” Bruce said firmly. “Have a safe trip, Pepper.”

“Thanks, Bruce.”

Natasha nodded at the two of them in farewell and smirked at Bruce as he came to stand beside her. “Nice shirt,” she commented as they turned to leave the lab.

“Well somebody told me I look good in green,” he replied lightly. He was smiling as they turned to walk down the hall.

Pepper stared after them. The light in Bruce’s eyes was unexpected, but certainly not unrecognizable. She’d just seen a similar brightness in Tony’s eyes when he smiled her favorite smile. In anyone else it would have registered as the merest flicker, but for Bruce Banner, the most rigidly controlled man she had ever known, a seismic event could be extrapolated from the smallest shift. The tiny smile, the muted light in his eyes — it was no more than the flame of a match. But even a single match could shine like a beacon in a dark room, and if anyone could be compared to a room that was darkened and carefully barred shut, it was Bruce Banner. 

He _liked_ Natasha Romanoff, she realized, and it blazed like a naked flame in that dark. 

“Not that I don’t want to keep you around,” Tony’s voice interrupted her spinning thoughts. “But don’t you have a plane to catch?”

Pepper glanced at her phone and sighed. She was late.

* * *

_A few weeks later…_

Pepper loved to watch Tony work. His ability to focus usually resembled a bag of marbles let loose on an unsteady floor, but when his interest was captured by one of his projects, he was transformed. He traded his usual quips for heavy silence, and his concentration was absolute. Tabloid reporters, journalists, and ambitious gold diggers were drawn to the rakish charm and the family fortune that had helped make him so famous, but it was his moments of stillness that Pepper found mesmerizing. It was easy for the cheering masses to forget Tony’s brilliance when it was his personality that dominated the sound bites and gossip columns, but she saw him in the quiet moments when his eyes suddenly unfocused and a new idea appeared behind them. It was easy for others to forget that Tony Stark was a genius. 

She stood at the foot of the stairs that led up to Bruce Banner’s lab, and watched the two of them through the glass walls. They were absorbed in conversation and both wearing the rapt expressions she’d come to associate with their moments of deepest thought: Tony paced and stared at nothing in particular, Bruce hunched and kept one hand pressed against his lips. She had a dinner date with Tony in just a few minutes, but she wasn’t the least bit surprised to find him still neck-deep in work with Bruce. Tony lost all track of time when he was working. She had worried for a long time about the effect of Tony’s long hours in the lab alone, about whether so much isolation could be good for him, especially after the PTSD diagnosis. She was glad he had company these days. 

Pepper heard footsteps behind her and recognized the feather-light stride of Natasha Romanoff. She appreciated the courtesy of Natasha bothering to make noise as she approached — she could be frighteningly silent when she chose. 

“Are they still in there?” Natasha asked with a sigh. 

“Yes,” Pepper answered, and heard the affectionate exasperation in her voice. “I may need a crowbar to pry Tony away.”

“They’re attached at the hip when they get that ‘science’ look in their eyes,” Natasha agreed with a smirk. “I’ve been waiting them out for a while. Incursion and abduction are looking like a good strategy right about now.”

“You have plans with Bruce?” Pepper questioned automatically, hoping that neither her curiosity nor her concern were apparent. She’d felt certain that Bruce was harboring feelings for Natasha Romanoff weeks ago, and that was _before_ Tony had offhandedly mentioned the lullaby process. 

As much as she hated character assassination via journalism, she hadn’t been able to help but absorb a little of the media circus surrounding the fall of SHIELD. As a result, she knew more than she wanted to about Natasha’s past work as a KGB agent, work so cold and lethal that she’d earned the title “The Black Widow.” After hearing the details of the “lullaby” process, Pepper knew that Bruce was deeply enmeshed with this woman on a professional level, and, after seeing the way his face lit up when she entered a room, she suspected there was enmeshment of the personal variety as well. She glanced at Natasha’s expression, smooth and unreadable as ever, and her concern over the situation only increased. 

“It’s movie night,” Natasha answered with a shrug. Like it was no big deal — like it meant nothing to her. 

Pepper suppressed a frown and wondered whether she would get farther by fishing for information or by asking outright. 

“Date night?” Natasha asked casually, her eyes fixed on the lab above. 

“Yeah,” Pepper replied, weighing the odds of finding another opportunity to speak to Natasha alone. Unlikely, she decided, and took a fortifying breath. “Tony told me about the lullaby you and Bruce developed. It sounds fascinating,” she started. 

“That’s one word for it.” So she was giving her nothing. 

“What word would you use?” Pepper probed, trying for nonchalance. Fortunately, as CEO of Stark Industries, she had plenty of practice with projecting one emotion and feeling another. 

“Necessary,” Natasha replied flatly. “I’m just glad we found a way to get Banner into the field. He’s a huge help out there.”

“I’m sure,” Pepper agreed quietly, not at all satisfied with that answer. 

“Does Tony tell you everything?” Natasha asked with a twitch of the lips that wasn’t quite a smile. 

“No,” Pepper replied honestly, and remembered Tony haltingly admitting to chronic insomnia after months of suffering, remembered further back to Natalie Rushman’s unannounced appearance in Monaco as Tony’s new assistant. “No, he doesn’t.”

Natasha’s eyebrows contracted faintly, and Pepper thought that between Natasha and Bruce she was becoming an expert at reading microexpressions. She realized that Natasha had been following the drift of her thoughts when she spoke again. 

“I don’t normally apologize for my work,” she began evenly. “But I think I owe you an apology for what happened with Tony.”

“Maybe you do,” Pepper shrugged. “But I know it wasn’t anything personal. And Tony told me that SHIELD helped save his life, so I can’t really resent you for that. And,” she added with a faint smile, “Maybe you’ve already paid your dues. You were a great assistant, after all.”

Natasha smirked. “I was an amazing assistant. If the Avengers thing falls through, maybe I’ll offer my services again. I double as a bodyguard, you know.”

Pepper laughed lightly. “I think you’re overqualified.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Natasha said with a shrug. Her usual stillness grew even deeper, pulling Pepper’s gaze from the lab above. “Tony was never serious about —“ she hesitated for a fraction of a second “ — _me_. I hope you know that. I was sent in partially as a distraction for him.”

Pepper nodded slowly, but she felt no real resentment, and that anger had faded long ago. She had only ever been angry at Natalie in the first place when she’d thought she was undermining Tony on purpose. She hadn’t been entirely wrong about the actions, but she’d been very wrong about the intent. Tony had been dying at the time, and SHIELD’s instrument of choice to help him had been Natasha Romanoff. The ends really did justify the means sometimes, she supposed. So Pepper blew out a breath and smiled with good humor. “In _those_ outfits?” she asked wryly. “I didn’t notice.”

Natasha’s smile was tight and sarcastic. “Men are easily distracted.”

An opening at last. "Bruce isn't," Pepper commented lightly, glancing over at Natasha's reaction. She didn't so much as twitch.

“Banner's an unusual case,” Natasha answered in a perfectly even tone, eyes fixed on the door to the lab.

“Yes,” Pepper agreed. “It seems like it would take a lot to turn his head.”

“He's always preoccupied. Usually with depressing things.” Her expression read as sarcastic, but her voice was a little softer than usual. “Stark was easier to manage," Natasha added, one corner of her lips pulling into an amused smirk. 

She was joking, or trying to. Pepper didn’t care for her flippant tone. It only served to compound her nascent concerns that maybe Bruce was yet another mission, and it made gleaning any truth from her words that much more difficult. In Natasha, opacity was elevated to an art form. The woman was impossible to read. She probed a little deeper, hoping to shake something loose. Maybe there was some simple honesty in this woman _somewhere_. “Is that what you're doing?” she questioned quietly. “Managing him?”

The ripples underneath Natasha's smooth expression were hard to positively identify, but if Pepper had hazarded a guess, she would have gone with anger. Natasha's lips tightened into a smile that was faintly bitter, but it dissolved almost instantly. "You looking out for him?" she asked, looking through the glass at Bruce’s distant back. 

"Someone has to.” Pepper spoke softly, and hoped that Natasha would return her earnestness in kind.

Natasha paused for a long moment. ”I agree," she answered at length, and her voice had sunk almost to a whisper. Her shoulders slumped fractionally and the tension melted out of her body and her voice. "Bruce is my friend," she said with an air of confession. "So don't worry about it.” _That_ carried the ring of honesty Pepper had so intently been searching for. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, responding with a little honesty of her own. “Tony…” she trailed off and grasped for the right words. “Tony was offended when he found out that you were working him, but he wasn’t hurt.” She looked towards Natasha and waited until she met her eyes. “Bruce isn’t like Tony.”

Natasha’s eyes remained carefully blank, but Pepper thought she saw her fists tighten at her sides. “I know,” she answered, her voice dipping again into the almost-whisper. But her fingers loosened, her eyebrow quirked, and when Natasha met her gaze again she wore a firm smirk. “How else could I be his friend?” she asked in her peculiarly flat way. Natasha was closing the door on the honesty, and pulling back into light conversation. Pepper decided not to fight her on that. She felt a little more optimistic about the situation, if not quite comforted, so her laugh came easily.

The heaviness that had fallen over both of them began to lift at last. The change of mood was complete when Tony’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Oh, shit — _dinner_. I’m coming, honey!”

Natasha passed him on his way down. “Sorry, we just had a breakthrough,” Tony started, breaking off to kiss her, and then resuming his ramble at his top speed. Pepper listened with half an ear — she could only understand a handful of what he was saying anyway — but her eyes followed Natasha into the lab, noted how Bruce’s relaxed smile was mirrored in hers. 

Bruce’s eyes drifted back to his tablet, his quick jabs at the screen indicating that he was in a hurry, and Pepper watched in amazement as Natasha’s unreadable mask cracked, just a little. Bruce chewed his bottom lip in concentration and Natasha watched him with a soft, silent smile.

Pepper remembered what it was like to watch this woman at work, to see her use flirtation as a deadly weapon. Her form of seduction was an act of assassination and she was the bullet. She aimed herself at a target — and Natasha Romanoff was a crack shot. But there was no reason for her to smile so softly at a man who wasn’t even looking at her. There was no reason for her to linger so close beside him when his attention was firmly fixed somewhere else. There was no strategy in the almost uncertain set of her shoulders and the strangely tight clench of the fist resting against the table — as if she wanted to touch him but held herself back. 

Pepper realized with a shock that the light she’d briefly seen in Bruce’s eyes was reflected in Natasha’s. She’d once thought that Bruce’s infatuation burned as brightly as the naked flame of a match, but in the lab, there wasn’t a lone flame.

There were two.


	4. Double Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce might finally have found a way to locate Loki's scepter, and celebrations are in order. Pepper is happy that the Avengers' war with Hydra might finally be over, but her attention turns toward the still dormant spark between Bruce and Natasha when their celebrations offer a unique opportunity for a little matchmaking.

The screech of the fire alarms in Avenger's Tower was not an unusual sound in the life of Pepper Potts. She expected it, really, after years of living with Tony and Bruce and their never-ending experiments. Small fires were commonplace in their labs, but Tony had developed a quick response system that doused any blaze before it could become a threat. So Pepper had learned to ignore the sound over the years; the alarm rang often, but never for long.

The alarm had been blaring for two solid minutes when Pepper finally looked up from her morning coffee. Tony really should have been able to take care of whatever the situation was by now. And if not Tony, then Bruce should have handled it. She felt the first niggle of real worry and sighed.

"Jarvis?" she called to her empty office.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"Why is the smoke alarm going off?"

Jarvis paused for a moment, evaluating. "There is a concentration of smoke in Mr. Stark's laboratory," he reported at last.

"And is Mr. Stark also in his laboratory?"

"Yes, Ms. Potts." The niggle was quickly becoming a low-burning fear.

"Is he alright?"

"His vital signs are slightly elevated, but within the normal range."

"Then why — nevermind. Call him for me, Jarvis. Tell him that my eardrums can't take much more."

Jarvis fell silent for an extended moment. "I don't believe he can hear me, Ms. Potts."

Pepper couldn't decide whether she was angry or worried as she swept out of the office. When it came to Tony Stark, there wasn't always a difference between those two emotions.

The fire alarm was a grating accompaniment to her elevator ride down to the lab, and Pepper was beginning to wish that she had a pair of earplugs as she finally approached the entrance. She wished even more fervently when she could feel the music in the lab vibrating through the floor and walls even before she could make out that she was hearing Black Sabbath.

The thin blanket of smoke crawling underneath the door caught her eye before she could work up a good righteous fury. It was dissipating into a haze around the doorway, and Pepper's irritation evaporated with it.

"Jarvis —" she began, but the doors were already opening. Pepper clapped a hand over her mouth and nose and took a step inside. "Tony?" she called, and was immediately seized by a coughing fit. The air carried an almost electric scent and the smoke was stinging in the back of her throat. Only it didn't smell like smoke at all. The mist clung to the ground like a high-stacked carpet and swished around her ankles as she took a few more steps. It was almost like…

"Dry ice?" she wondered aloud, and felt her irritation returning with a vengeance. "Tony!" she called, and started coughing again.

"Pepper?" She could just barely hear his voice above the cacophony of the music. She turned and finally saw him descending the stairs from Bruce's lab. The "smoke" appeared to be leaking from Bruce's lab and sliding down the stairs with him. Tony's broad grin suggested that the music had drowned out the definitive note of anger in her voice.

"Jarvis," Pepper called in a tight voice. "Turn the music down."

Tony's lips were moving, but she only managed to hear what he said after the music faded. " — and we're celebrating!" Tony finished, and winced when his shout was abruptly loud in the surrounding silence. "Is that the fire alarm?" he added, glancing upward in surprise.

"Tony," Pepper ground out. "What on _earth_ are you doing down here?"

"One second, Pep. Jarvis? Kill the alarm, please."

"With pleasure, sir."

Pepper's ears were finally met with the blessed relief of silence. "Tony, did your _dry ice_ set off the smoke alarm?"

"It looks that way," he observed with a shrug. "I didn't realize it would be triggered. Jarvis, make a note: I need to upgrade the system. If it can't distinguish between dry ice and actual fires, that'll put a damper on all my parties." His eyes strayed back to her and his lingering grin finally faded. "You're mad at me," he observed, and took a single, uneasy step backwards. "Why are you mad at me?"

"Maybe it's because I've had the alarm ringing in my ears for too long, and you weren't responding to Jarvis, and I was actually _worried_ about you —" she trailed off with a huff.

There had been a time when Tony would have dashed away the moment she became agitated; now he stayed put and nodded carefully. She noticed the longing glance he cast at the door, but his urge to run away became endearing when he fought it. "I'm sorry, Pepper," he said immediately. He stepped forward to place a hand on each of her arms. "I didn't mean to —" But he halted in the middle of the justification and changed directions. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Pepper," Bruce's voice came down the stairs ahead of him. "We got a little carried away."

"Carried away?" Pepper asked, curious despite the lingering shakiness of a few minutes' worth of anxiety. "With what?"

"Celebrating," Tony explained, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. "Honey, we've cracked a tracking algorithm that we think will lead us straight to Loki's scepter."

That explained the impromptu party. Tony, Bruce, and the rest of the Avengers had been after Loki's scepter for months, taking down dozens of Hydra bases all over the world in search of that one key piece. If they could find the scepter, then they might finally be finished with their globe-trotting war on Hydra. If they could find it, they might finally have won. Pepper suddenly felt a little more inclined to forgive Tony for his careless celebrating.

"You're sure it works?"

"Pretty sure. We're running it now. Hopefully we'll get a definitive hit on the location by tomorrow. But now, we celebrate." Tony grinned at Bruce. Bruce was too busy coughing into his sleeve to reciprocate.

"Tony, can we turn off the fog machine?" he asked with a rasp.

"Party pooper," Tony muttered. "Jarvis, you heard the man."

"This is how you're celebrating?" Pepper asked incredulously. "With a _rave?_ "

Bruce snorted with laughter, but he deftly shifted it into another cough when Tony glared in his direction.

"I haven't even started the laser show yet," Tony muttered. "What would you suggest?" he added in response to her raised eyebrows. She decided to ignore the petulance in his voice. And he had been so mature just a moment before.

"I don't know," Pepper mused. "How would you like to celebrate, Bruce?"

Bruce looked so shocked by the question that Pepper nearly laughed. "I don't know," he answered after a moment. Of course, Bruce sometimes had to be cornered into offering his opinions.

"Wait," Tony interjected suspiciously. "You mean you weren't into the party in the lab idea?"

"Not particularly." Only Bruce would look so abashed about not enjoying something.

"Why didn't you say something?" Tony complained, looking taken aback and offended all at once.

Bruce rubbed at his neck for a moment before he finally offering a shrug. "Uh…I did."

"Alright, fine. I can take a hint," Tony went on, his petulant voice back in full force. "What would you like to do?"

"Tony, we don't have to celebrate at all —"

Tony shushed him loudly. "I'm trying to figure out what you like to do. Help me out, Pepper. Bruce likes old movies, peace and quiet…" He sighed in despair. "Yeah, this isn't going to work. None of these things are any fun."

"Tony —" Bruce tried again.

"Yeah, I know. If you had it your way, you'd drink tea and listen to some of that godawful opera…" Pepper saw the epiphany flare behind Tony's eyes. "Wait, that's it. Pepper," he said, spinning to face her, "Don't we have a box at the Met?"

Well this conversation had just taken an interesting turn. "Yes," she replied. "But I'm tempted to take issue with your use of the word 'we.' You've never gone."

Tony ignored that and forged ahead. "Let's go to the opera!" he proclaimed, and looked very pleased with himself.

Bruce's eyes met hers over Tony's shoulder. He looked incredulous for all of two seconds before breaking into a triumphant grin. "It's happening," he mouthed to her, and managed a tiny fist pump before Tony turned back to him. Pepper used Tony's preoccupation to return Bruce's victorious grin.

Tony was in full project planning mode now, and nothing could stop his momentum. "Bruce, do you own a tux?" He paused and shook his head as if to clear it. "Maybe those dry ice fumes had a bad effect — I can't believe I just asked you that question. Jarvis, get Bruce an appointment with my tailor." Jarvis acknowledged the command, but Tony was already onto the next item. "Pepper, buy yourself a gown. We're going to do this right. Also, we're having drinks after, because if I have to listen to singers shrieking for three hours, then I sure as hell have to drink myself into a coma so I can forget the trauma." Pepper should have been irritated by Tony's continued condemnation of high art, should have been too exhausted for an entirely new emotion to surface after the trying emotional gamut she'd been through that morning, but a softness stole over her that Tony noticed immediately.

His frantic energy calmed when he paused to ask her, "What?"

"I've always wanted to go to the opera with you," she admitted with a shrug. Tony's smile was soft and completely lacking in sarcasm or self-congratulation. It was _her_ smile.

"Why didn't you say so?" he asked, gathering her hand into his. "I would have endured anything, even the fat lady singing, if I'd known you wanted to go."

"Why don't you two go?" Bruce interjected quietly. Pepper glanced his way and noticed that he'd wilted a little. His smile was kind, but shuttered.

"What?" Tony protested. "Bruce, we're supposed to be celebrating. Me _and_ you."

"I don't want to third wheel your date…" Bruce started, and Pepper abruptly felt guilty about having a moment in the middle of things. She was on the point of insisting that they would all go together when Tony's gleeful grin distracted her.

"I would say that you could be _my_ date, Bruce, but you know how jealous Pepper is. She'd vote me off the Stark Industries board and I'd die in the street. I don't even know my social security number." Pepper sighed, but couldn't quite stifle her laugh. Bruce looked as though he wasn't sure which part of Tony's troubling statement to touch first.

"How do you not know —" he started at last.

"Bruce, I'm sorry," Tony interrupted with a close-lipped grin, sarcastic in the extreme. "But we're just not meant to be." Bruce cast a glance at the ceiling and Pepper wondered if he was gathering his thoughts — or praying for patience. A tiny smile broke over his face at last.

"Alright," Bruce conceded. "Let's go. But I am _not_ your date. Don't you dare say that to any reporters."

"Party pooper," Tony reiterated, but he grinned.

"You're very generous, Tony," Pepper interjected slyly. "But I'm pretty sure Bruce could do better than you."

Tony's attention shifted with the speed of a bullet. "Ha, better than me? Big words, coming from _my_ girlfriend. Name one person who's a better date than me." _Checkmate_ , his smile proclaimed.

"Well," Pepper started, not entirely certain how she was going to end the sentence.

"Is everything okay in here?" Natasha Romanoff's voice from the doorway was a sudden reprieve. She kicked at the dissipating swirl of fog around her ankles. "Normally you boys get the smoke alarm under control faster than that. Thought I should check in." She glanced at them with a smirk. "You having a party without the rest of the team?"

"Natasha Romanoff," Tony declared. "I didn't know you cared."

"Who said I cared about you?" she returned smoothly. "You alright, Bruce?"

"We're fine," Bruce answered. His faint smile quickly progressed toward a smirk. "More than fine, actually. Tony's going to the opera."

Natasha mirrored his smirk, and Tony tried for righteous indignation in the middle of the sarcasm storm. As Natasha congratulated Tony on his taste, Pepper was distracted by a horrible, _wonderful_ idea.

She'd realized some time ago that Bruce and Natasha had a _thing_ — an infatuation, a crush, feelings, whatever she wanted to call it — and she'd been hoping that they would make some progress with said thing. Judging by Bruce's stiff posture and the way he maintained a good two feet of distance from Natasha as she wandered closer, Pepper hazarded a guess that they still had not acted on it. Tony's silence on the subject was another mark in favor of their continued stalling; if he had caught wind of a romance, he would have been flinging jokes and insinuations with the enthusiasm of a chimpanzee with a pile of feces.

Of course, she reminded herself, Tony wasn't always the most insightful when it came to the softer emotions. This was the same man who had spent time with her on a daily basis for years before announcing that he loved her. It was a "sudden revelation" he'd said. Pepper had narrowly avoided banging her head into a wall.

On the other hand, _she_ was usually right in her assessment of the feelings of others. She'd known how Tony felt about her before he did, and she was certain of Bruce's feelings for Natasha. Natasha herself had been a little harder to pin down, but Pepper was certain there were feelings on that side as well.

If she did this, she would be the worst sort of meddler. She'd be a child playing spin the bottle with other people's lives. But if she didn't…

She looked at the soft smile Bruce aimed at Natasha, and thought that it would be a shame if they never pursued whatever it was that hung between them. So she set her shoulders, took a breath, and _pushed_.

"I have a solution to our third wheel problem," she began. "Natasha, how would you like to come with us? We can make it a double date."

Bruce blinked twice before he finally looked as though he had processed her words. Then he looked as though he was hoping to sink beneath the floor. Pepper almost felt guilty for forcing the issue, but she caught Natasha's half-smile and all hint of regret evaporated. She _knew_ they had a thing. The sudden tension in the room was just more proof that they hadn't acted on it yet — and more proof that they needed to.

"I'm sure Natasha doesn't want to go," Bruce said with a laugh that was just a little too cheerful.

"Why don't you ask me and find out," Natasha suggested evenly. Her face was unreadable. Bruce, on the other hand, was clearly cycling through a spectrum of emotions that ranged from confusion to something like panic. 

"Um…okay," he assented at last, pulling off his glasses and folding the legs with precise care. He glanced up at Natasha uncertainly. "Do you?"

"Well, I've actually got something I need to do tonight —"

"See, I told you —" Bruce pointed at Pepper with his glasses, and spoke with the air of a justified man.

"— but it's nothing I can't get out of," Natasha finished with a shrug.

Bruce's triumph deflated and the look he wore wandered between happiness and disappointment. "Oh. Um. Good, I guess. Okay." Bruce looked as though he couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Natasha was already filling the silence by asking for details about their plans.

Pepper hated herself for meddling. She was too old and too sensible to be playing Emma Woodhouse with two friends. But as she watched the tension between Bruce and Natasha fade and settle into silent commiseration over Tony's vague and unhelpful answers to Natasha's questions, she felt certain that she would hate herself more if she didn't at least try to give them a push.

* * *

Pepper was more than satisfied with Tony's wide-eyed reaction to the gown she'd chosen for the opera. It was long and sleek, and a nearly electric shade of blue. More importantly, it was daringly backless. Tony _loved_ her backless dresses. It took him a full two seconds to speak after she entered the room; Pepper mentally declared victory.

"Honey, you look _stunning_ ," he declared as he stepped forward to take her hands. "Let's go to the opera all the time."

"I'll hold you to that," she threatened, but her smile ruined it. Over Tony's shoulder, Bruce was staring out one of the windows of the massive multi-tiered space that served as the Avengers' common room. She couldn't see his expression, but even his back looked pensive. She pushed away the flare of uncertainty about her romantic machinations. She'd decide whether or not to feel bad about it later.

For now, she focused on the fact that she'd never seen Bruce in a tux.

"Bruce? You alright over there?" she called. He turned, blinking away his thoughts.

"What? Oh, I'm fine. Just uncomfortable." He grinned sheepishly and gestured at the tuxedo. It was quite a sight, Pepper had to admit. She was so used to seeing Bruce in a lab coat and glasses, that she almost didn't recognize him in a tailored black jacket and waistcoat. His hair was half-tamed with mousse as though he had attempted to comb it back, given up in the middle, and left it to curl as it would.

And he was wearing a _bowtie_.

Bruce tugged ineffectually at that bowtie as Pepper wondered whether Natasha had ever seen him dressed to the nines. It was a good look.

"Bruce," she started, stepping around Tony. "You look amazing." Bruce and Tony wore matching expressions of astonishment and it took the space of a few rapid blinks for Bruce to turn bright red.

"Uh, thanks?"

"No, really," Pepper insisted, perversely enjoying the scowl she felt rather than saw growing on Tony's face. "Turn around for me."

Bruce performed the most awkward spin she'd ever seen, but when she laughed, it was only because she was delighted with how wonderful he looked. He could use one last touch, though. "Hold still," she instructed, and reached up to ruffle his hair just slightly…

The curls loosened and fell more naturally. "Perfect," she declared, stepping back to admire her work. Even with her relatively limited knowledge of technology in this particular room, she thought Bruce resembled a computer error screen as he stared at her, and then at the floor.

"Thanks," he repeated. It still came out as a question and Pepper shook her head and smiled. She felt Tony's sulk growing behind her before she turned and saw it. She slipped an arm through his.

"You look good," she whispered. "And unlike others in this room, you already know it." Tony recovered his good humor immediately, and Pepper sighed. It never did take much.

"Now where is the final member of our opera squad?" Tony wondered aloud, glancing at the ceiling as though Natasha might appear in the rafters.

Although that was probably a distinct possibility given some of the stories Pepper had heard about the Avenger's missions. She threw a glance skyward as well, before rebuking herself for being ridiculous. Bruce was still staring fixedly at the ground.

The click of heels echoed in the hallway, and Tony turned immediately. "Along came a spider," he said by way of welcome. "At last, I might add."

Pepper knew she should turn and say hello, but she lingered for just a moment, her curiosity burning to see Bruce's reaction. He looked up at last. His eyes went wide, and his bowtie bobbed when he swallowed hard. If Pepper had held any lingering doubts about his feelings for Natasha, she would have banished them at the sight. His eyes flicked to Pepper's, and all she could read was a distant, formless panic. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before mouthing, "Perfect," in his direction, and giving him a discreet thumbs up. Bruce's confused stare cycled rapidly through a gape, a blush, and finally settled into a bewildered smile. Pepper turned to greet Natasha.

"Ms. Romanoff. So glad you could join us."

"Glad to be the fourth wheel, Ms. Potts," she answered with a demure smirk of her bright red lips. Her hair was pinned back into a loose pile of curls above a one-shouldered black silk dress that only accentuated an already incredible figure. The skirt was loosely contoured until it ended at the knees, and her black, peep toe heels gave her an extra four inches of height. In that get up, Natasha Romanoff was even more of a force to be reckoned with than usual. Pepper would have thrown Bruce another supportive look, but Natasha was far too observant for those sorts of games to go undetected. Natasha was already looking in Bruce's direction anyway.

"Bruce," she acknowledged.

"Natasha," he replied. He waited a moment too long, but he finally added: "You look beautiful."

"You don't clean up so bad yourself," she fired back, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Tony, ever the bull in a china shop, blundered right through their moment. "Car's ready," he said, his eyes glued to his razor-thin touchscreen. "Let's go see an opera." He offered Pepper a gallant arm, which she took with only a little sarcasm.

They made it three steps before Natasha announced that she'd forgotten her coat. "You go ahead," Bruce said, when Pepper and Tony turned back. "We'll take another car and catch up." He looked distantly confused, as if he wasn't in complete agreement with the words coming out of his mouth. Pepper stifled a grin and pulled Tony towards the door when he started to offer to wait. This matchmaking thing was entirely too much fun.

* * *

Pepper loved going to the opera. Sitting in a private box surrounded by the lush tones of a world class orchestra and watching the finest singers and performers in the world was her idea of a relaxing evening. The Metropolitan Opera was a particular favorite. She supposed it might have something to do with seeing the stars mingle with the lights of New York City as you approached, the glimmering spray of the fountain outside the doors, and the golden light that beckoned from the windows of the entrance. Even Tony looked impressed as they made their way towards the lobby doors. Pepper led the way to the box that Stark Industries had gained as part of an enormous corporate sponsorship deal; Tony glanced appreciatively at the prominent Stark Industries logo emblazoned on their programs as they found their seats.

"Would you look at that," he flapped the program in her direction. "I'm everywhere." His smirk telegraphed quite clearly that he was expecting a retort, and she was only too happy to provide one.

" _Our company_ is everywhere," she corrected, thumbing through the program. "And if you'd had your way, there would be no Met sponsorship."

"This is why I signed my company over to you, honey. You have all the judgment and all the taste." She was just beginning to smile at him when he added, "Well, a lot of the taste." He caught her exasperated look and she saw the moment he decided against quantifying how much taste she had. Tony refrained from specific percentages these days, after a certain twelve percent remark had never stopped haunting him.

Pepper watched in amusement as Tony scanned the auditorium from the chandeliers to the plush crimson seats to the heavy golden curtains obscuring the stage. Below, the seats were half filled and the aisles were clogged with a lazy stream of opera-goers. The crowd glittered almost as much as the crystal chandelier overhead. A handful of the pit orchestra was warming up, and the sound of flutes and violins and timpani drums mingled with the steady hum of conversation around them. Tony leaned back in his chair and Pepper recognized his growing boredom in the sudden tap of his fingers against his armrest.

"What are we watching?" he asked with a yawn. Pepper refrained from pointing out that he had a program literally at his fingertips.

" _La Bohème_ ," she supplied instead.

"That's the one with the people who fall in love and die?" He paused and gave her a look. "You know, I think I just described the plot of every opera."

Pepper couldn't help her laugh. Tony grinned and pulled his chair closer to read her program over her shoulder. His beard scratched her shoulder when he finally rested his chin there.

"You smell wonderful," he commented with interest.

"Be good," she answered. "Bruce and Natasha will be here any time now."

"Where are they?" he complained, sitting up to glare at their empty seats. "I'm committing auditory suicide for Bruce's sake and he can't be bothered to show up? And how long does it take a super spy to find her own coat? She can find anyone in the world and she can't find that?"

"My ears are burning," came Natasha's voice from behind them. Pepper laughed at Tony's flinch of surprise.

Bruce's voice was next. "Sorry," he started as he hurried into the box, apologizing before he'd even found his seat. "I've been wanting to see the Met art gallery, so we stopped by before we headed this way. We got turned around on the way up."

Pepper glanced at Natasha's impassive expression as the two of them took the empty chairs on the right side of the box. She was sure that Bruce might have gotten lost inside the building, but she didn't believe for a second that Natasha had. Nevertheless, Natasha didn't contradict him, and the two of them fell into conversation over a single program.

"Bruce, I hope you appreciate this musical bullet I'm taking for your sake," Tony said in a pained voice.

Bruce looked him in the eyes quite solemnly, and his lips barely twitched as he replied. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony nodded and waved off the remark. "I'm an amazing friend," he sighed to himself. Bruce grinned and turned back to Natasha.

The lights dimmed and the oboe player far below led the orchestra as they tuned for the performance.

* * *

The first half of the opera ended with thunderous applause and the lights came up for the intermission. Tony, fast asleep against Pepper's shoulder, finally stirred. "Is that the end?" he slurred, rubbing at his eyes and blinking. Pepper felt a great deal of satisfaction in informing him that it was only the intermission.

"Oh God," was Tony's only response, followed by something about getting some drinks before he disappeared from the box. Pepper sighed.

Natasha said something to Bruce, too soft for Pepper to hear from two seats away, and she too slipped through the door to join the crowd flowing past. Bruce turned his chair to face Pepper and smiled. "You enjoying the performance?" he asked, grinning knowingly as she strained fruitlessly to smooth the wrinkles Tony's face had pressed into her satin dress.

"It's been a long time since I've seen _La Bohème_ ," she replied, finally giving up on her dress, and settling back into her chair. "So this has been wonderful. If only Tony had an attention span greater than a five-year-old…" she trailed off with a sigh. Bruce laughed and glanced through the program absently. Pepper's eyes wandered to the door.

"Where is Natasha headed?" she asked.

"Champagne run," Bruce answered, still buried in the program. He blinked and looked up. "Sorry, I should have asked if you wanted some."

She waved him off. "Tony will bring some." They fell back into silence and Pepper toyed with the idea of speaking bluntly about the situation brewing between Bruce and Natasha. The night was going well, after all. She still wasn't sure of the wisdom of poking at two so profoundly reserved people, but Bruce generally responded to open communication. The seconds ticked by, and Pepper knew that if she wanted to speak to him alone, she was running out of time.

"So," she started casually. "Are you going to do something about this?"

Bruce looked up from his perusal of the cast bios. "About what?" he asked, his eyebrows contracting in confusion.

Pepper took a deep breath before the plunge. "This thing with Natasha." she clarified, choosing a very careful, calm voice. She felt like a little girl in riding lessons again, trying not to spook a horse. Bruce spooked anyway.

"This — what?" His eyes went wide and his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked away from her. He pulled off his glasses and stared at them with unseeing eyes. "There's no thing," he said, finally, and his voice was somehow firm _and_ incredulous. Pepper wondered if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"Oh, there is definitely a thing," she insisted gently. "I don't want to pry, but you two seem very happy when you're together. So," she repeated, "Are you going to do something about this?"

Bruce's face wandered through something like anger, but it faded before she could be sure. When he finally met her eyes, all she could definitively see was resignation. "I'm not saying that there is a _thing_ ," he started, and he sounded like a teenage boy denying a crush, "But even if there was…" he sighed heavily, and for just a moment, she saw past his wall of control and calm, and caught a glimpse of something empty in his eyes. "It's impossible, Pepper. You know that." His voice was flat and lifeless, drained of the energy he'd had only moments before, and Pepper fought hard against the swell of guilt in her chest. This was certainly not impossible, she reminded herself. Evidently, someone needed to remind him, too.

"That's exactly what I thought about being with Tony before it happened," she started earnestly. "Personally and professionally, we could never get on the same page."

Her words rolled off his stony expression, but she could tell that Bruce was listening. He wanted to change his mind, she was certain. "I think our situations are a little different," he said at last. He had slumped a little since she'd steered their conversation into dangerous waters, and Pepper recognized the wall he was hastily building around himself. Bruce always did have a way of defending himself against hope. She made one last attempt to halt his progress with the barrier.

"Are they?" she suggested softly. "A lot of things seem impossible until after the fact. This might not be as impossible as you think." Something flashed in his eyes; Pepper thought it might be hope.

She had one eye on the door, so she saw Natasha slide into the box a moment before Bruce did. She leaned in to whisper: "Besides, I'm sure she likes you." She sat back, and smiled in greeting at Natasha as Bruce stared at her in undisguised shock.

Natasha held out a champagne flute for Bruce; it took him a moment to click his jaw shut and accept it with murmured thanks. Natasha's eyes flicked quickly between the two of them, but she didn't ask any questions as she reclaimed her seat beside Bruce.

"Got you something," she said in a voice that was almost teasing.

Bruce looked dizzy. "What?" he managed, setting the champagne flute aside and staring uneasily at it.

Natasha dropped a plastic bag from the gift shop into his lap. "Happy Opera," she declared flatly.

Bruce stared at the bag as though it might rise up and bite him. He gingerly pulled out a paper-wrapped lump and pulled at the paper until a shining black mug was revealed. _Keep Calm and Go to the Met_ was printed in yellow capital letters on both sides. "Mood control and opera," she said with satisfaction. "Your favorite things."

Bruce's smile was slow to appear, but it practically glowed once it did. "Thanks," he said softly, and rewrapped the mug with great care.

Bruce retrieved his champagne flute and raised it in toast. "To your impressive present-buying skills," he said with a crooked grin.

Natasha smirked, but shook her head. "We need a better toast."

"Here's looking at you, kid," Bruce corrected himself, and Natasha clinked their glasses with an approving smile. Bruce's eyes wandered briefly to Pepper's as he set his mug carefully under his seat. She just raised an eyebrow at him. He quickly looked away again, but it didn't escape her notice that he stared in Natasha's direction for the rest of the intermission.

Tony finally reappeared just as the lights were going down. He too was bearing a bag from the gift shop, and Pepper watched curiously as he unwrapped his package, drawing a multitude of disapproving stares toward his loud crinkling of plastic. "Okay, I'm ready," he said as he finally freed his purchase from the bag. Pepper could just make out the object in the dimming lights.

Tony had bought a pillow.

* * *

Tony mysteriously regained the ability to stay awake once they returned to the Tower and drifted to the bar in the common room. He insisted that he had enjoyed the opera as he mixed drinks.

"It wasn't so bad," he said as he pushed a drink towards Pepper.

"You mean you enjoyed the five minutes that you were awake?" she hedged with a wicked grin. Natasha smirked and Bruce was mostly successful with stifling his laugh.

"It was a wonderful five minutes," Tony shrugged. "And the nap was even better. Drinks?" he asked in Bruce and Natasha's direction.

"No," Natasha replied. "I think I'll turn in. I can only handle so much excitement in one night."

Goodnights were exchanged and Pepper was disappointed when Bruce didn't follow her. Natasha disappeared into the elevator, and Pepper noted with distant surprise that the floor numbers climbed past the domestic floors, toward the roof. Bruce remained at the bar, fidgeting uneasily with his bowtie for several minutes before he too offered a goodnight and disappeared into the elevator. Pepper couldn't help but notice that the elevator made the climb to the roof a second time.

"What are you smiling about?" Tony asked after a moment.

"Nothing," she shrugged. "The opera was fun. We should do it again." Tony's panicked expression was only slightly less satisfying than Pepper's certainty that Bruce and Natasha were going to have a fighting chance.

* * *

As Pepper left for Los Angeles the following morning, she felt certain that she would soon be on the receiving end of a call from Tony to announce that Bruce and Natasha were an official thing. She wondered how outraged he would be about missing the signs. It might be fun to mention it a lot for a while.

She did receive a call from Tony in short order, but instead of news about Bruce or Natasha, he was bearing news of the success of their algorithm, and the capture of Loki's scepter.

"We did it, Pepper. We got the scepter. It's all over." Tony was throwing an enormous party in the Tower to celebrate. "Can you come? I fixed the smoke detector problem."

"Tony, sometimes you say things to help your case, but you don't help your case at all." She meant to sigh, but smiled into the phone instead. "I wish I could come." Tony was disappointed, but he rallied his good humor and chatted absently for a few minutes until Bruce's voice asked him a question and pulled him back into whatever feverish project they had going. Stark Industries business monopolized her attention for a full three days after that.

Then came the Ultron crisis. News reports on the situation were sporadic and hardly ever confirmed, and Tony's brief messages didn't offer much clarity. She wasn't able to gather much beyond the fact that some of his Iron Legion bots had gone haywire and were causing damage. She didn't even have enough information to hold a press conference. Tony wasn't answering her calls; when she wasn't dodging reporters, she worried.

The first real news came in the form of viral videos from Johannesburg. The Hulk and Tony's Hulkbuster suit were recorded by a thousand phone cameras and news cameras as they smashed up half the city. The airwaves quickly filled with calls for the arrest of Bruce Banner, and Tony and the rest of the Avengers completely disappeared from any official radars. The lack of messages left her terrified.

The bizarre reports from Sokovia shortly afterward didn't help. Tony finally called her, and the exhaustion in his voice made her chest ache. She met him at the Tower, and didn't let him out of her arms for several minutes. She wanted to hear the entire story, wanted to yell at him for creating something as reckless as artificial intelligence, wanted to cry and hug him for much longer, but she forced herself to take things one at a time.

"I saw the videos of Johannesburg," she started, her arms still clutching at Tony's. She forced herself to loosen her grip. "Are you okay? Is Bruce okay?"

Tony took a moment too long to reply. His face went blank with the exception of the distant pain that flared in his eyes. "Pepper," he started, and the regret in his voice made her heart stop. "Bruce is gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person, because I made an Emma Woodhouse reference connected to Pepper...and Gwyneth Paltrow played Emma in the 1996 adaptation. In my defense, I thought of the reference a millisecond before I made the actress connection. ;)
> 
> I'm an even more terrible person for this ending. But don't come after me with pitchforks and torches just yet — there's one more oneshot in this series!


	5. Pandora's Box and God's Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper Potts is the first to know when Bruce returns to Avengers Tower. But there is more than one reunion for Bruce to navigate after his return, and between the varying reactions of Natasha, Tony, and the New Avengers, it’s shaping up to be quite a first day back.

Pepper stared through the glass wall of the penthouse in Avengers Tower, soaking in the silence and the glow of the rising sun. Tony was sprawled across the bed behind her. He’d barely stirred for the past ten hours, and she suspected he’d be out for quite a while longer. She didn’t disturb him from his recuperation; the bruises of Sokovia weren’t only physical, after all. She cast one last glance at Tony to assure herself that he was sleeping soundly (and to assure herself that he was okay when so many people were _not_ after Ultron’s rampage), and slipped silently to the sitting room at the other end of their penthouse suite. When there were several closed doors between the two of them, she pulled out her cell phone.

Bruce Banner had been gone for twenty-four hours when Pepper dialed his cell number and was immediately transferred to his voicemail. It wasn’t personalized, so she was only prompted by a mailbox number and a beep.

“Bruce,” she began. “It’s Pepper.” 

And her carefully planned words failed her. Tony had relayed the fact that Bruce had disappeared after the final battle with Ultron, a battle that he had decisively helped to turn in their favor. Tony wasn’t completely sure about why he had left. 

_Must’ve been what the Maximoff kid made him do,_ he’d said. _I knew he was upset, but I didn’t think…_

He’d gone quiet after that, and Pepper hadn’t pressed him. She’d seen the footage, just like everyone else on the planet. 

_Oh, Bruce._

She became aware of the fact that she’d let too many silent seconds drag by on the recording. These things had time limits, after all. 

“Bruce, I don’t know if you’ll hear this, but I wanted to say that I’m so sorry about what happened. I hope you get this message, because I want you to know that you’re welcome back anytime. We’re really going to miss you…Tony misses you already. Take care of yourself, Bruce.” 

She hesitated for a moment, sighed, and hung up.

* * *

Bruce Banner had been gone for two weeks when Pepper found Tony in Bruce’s lab. He was arranged haphazardly in a rolling chair by one of the open doorways, as though he hadn’t been meaning to sit, but had sunk down absently. He had a tumbler of something that looked like scotch in one hand and his eyes were a little glassy when they met Pepper’s. His smile was cracked. 

“I know it’s a little early in the day,” he said, not very drunk. She couldn’t find it in herself to reprimand him when he stared at Bruce’s usual chair and added, “God, I miss him.”

She’d suspected that he was suffering from Bruce’s absence more than he let on. His silence on the subject of Bruce had spoken volumes; Tony talked about everything except what hurt him. She was relieved that he’d finally said it, even if it had taken alcohol to loosen his tongue. 

She pulled a chair beside Tony — _not_ Bruce’s chair — and they sat in silence.

* * *

Bruce Banner had been gone for one month when Pepper opened the door to his room and found Natasha Romanoff.

Pepper had taken it upon herself to handle the correspondence that arrived for Bruce shortly after his disappearance. She wanted to spare Tony the daily reminder of Bruce’s absence, and, on a more practical level, Tony just wasn’t very good at organization. After the security screenings were complete, Pepper sorted out and threw away the hate mail, and left whatever professional correspondence remained in Bruce’s dark and silent room. She had never seen anyone else in this part of the building. 

Until now. 

“Natasha,” she said in surprise. Natasha stood quickly, abandoning her perch on the end of Bruce’s bed. 

“Pepper,” she replied, completely unruffled, as though this situation wasn’t strange at all. Natasha’s eyes slid to the stack of letters in Pepper’s hand. Pepper swore her gaze sharpened. But when she asked “Anything for me?” it was with an air of complete unconcern. Pepper didn’t believe her tone for an instant.

“I’m afraid not. Just adding to the collection,” she answered, crossing to Bruce’s bedside table, empty except for a small pile of mail and a lamp. The whole room was curiously bare, and she wondered whether he had always kept it that way. “He’s going to have a lot to go through when he gets back.”

When she turned back to Natasha, her face was smooth and blank, but her shoulders had dropped just a fraction. 

“When he gets back,” she echoed, and Pepper wondered whether she had meant to allow the hollow note into her voice. She wasn’t sure, so she pretended not to have heard it. 

“I’ve got a team meeting, so I’ll leave you to it,” Natasha offered after a beat of silence. Her voice sounded normal now, flat and controlled. 

Natasha swept out of the room, and Pepper belatedly noticed that the room wasn’t completely bare after all. There was a dusty black mug resting on the dresser, out of sight from the doorway, but very visible to anyone sitting on the bed. 

_Keep Calm and Go to the Met_ was printed in yellow capital letters on the side.

* * *

Bruce Banner had been gone for six months when FRIDAY announced a visitor. Pepper was up before the sun, dressed for a board meeting, and glancing through her overcrowded email inbox when FRIDAY’s soft-spoken voice filtered into her office in Avenger’s Tower.

“Excuse me, Ms. Potts.”

“Yes, FRIDAY?” she asked as she finally reached for her coffee. 

“There is a visitor,” FRIDAY continued in her gentle way. “Although visitor might not be the best word. Returning guest is more accurate.”

Pepper took a deliberate sip from her mug before she asked, “Who?” If life with Tony had taught her anything, it was that it was always best to savor the quiet moments before the inevitable shit hit the ever-present fan. FRIDAY’s mysterious announcement held a hint of impending disaster; Pepper forced herself not to grimace as she waited for an explanation.

“Sorry for the mystery, Pepper. It’s just me,” another voice answered as the door of her office swung open. It was a distinctly familiar male voice, as soft-spoken as Friday, but carrying a weight of weariness that an A.I. could never duplicate. The frayed quality of the voice made her heart heavy, but her relief was so intense that a smile still came easily as she stood.

“Bruce,” she said, coming around her desk to hug him as quickly as her heels would allow. He looked surprised by the hug, as always. She was glad that something seemed not to have changed; Bruce himself felt thin and tense in her arms. She pulled back to look at him. His clothes were worn and hung loosely on his shoulders, his eyes held a heaviness that she instantly recognized as exhaustion, and his smile was strained. All in all, he looked like he needed a few days’ worth of both solid meals and sleep. Her welcoming smile slipped a little before she froze it into place. 

She had so many questions. “I don’t think Tony’s up yet,” she said instead. She almost asked him if he wanted breakfast, caught herself, and asked FRIDAY to have an extra plate sent up. Bruce was going to eat something if she had anything to say about it. 

If he noticed her plot to feed him, he didn’t mention it.

He also didn’t sit down, or ask about Tony, or make self-effacing joke about where he had been, or do any of the things that filled the Bruce Banner box in her mind. Pepper didn’t like his stiff silence or the way he drifted toward the window to stare at the rising sun without really looking at it. She noted the tense line of his shoulders, the echo of something sad in his eyes. She wondered again about precisely why he had left, and wondered whether she ought to ask him. 

But over the past few months the media had asked more than enough questions about him, his actions, and his intentions for one lifetime, so she remained silent. She could give him that, at least. 

“Am I still welcome back?” Bruce broke the silence with the self-deprecating smile that she remembered. Or _almost_ the smile she remembered; this version was stained with sadness and Pepper’s heart clenched. “I thought six months might be pushing the limits of ‘anytime,’” he added softly.

“So you got my message.” 

He nodded. “I did.” The sad smile turned bitter around the edges. “I dialed into my voicemail from a payphone when I started to miss…everybody. Pathetic, huh?” His bitterness, as always, was aimed at himself. 

“No. Not pathetic at all,” she answered quietly. “I wish you had come back sooner. Tony’s missed you.” She was glad to see a little life return to his smile. 

“Really?” he asked, and a hint of teasing entered his voice, to Pepper’s relief. “I’m sure he cried every day.”

_Near enough_ , Pepper thought, remembering the way Tony’s eyes had glistened on the day when the scotch had loosened his emotions along with his tongue. But she had Tony’s feelings to think about as well as Bruce’s, so she edited a bit when she spoke. 

“Well, maybe not every day,” she said with a sarcastic twist of her lips. Bruce laughed and for just a moment she wished that she could tell him how hard his absence had been for Tony. Tony would never say it outright, and Bruce would only get uncomfortable if he did.

_Men_ , she sighed mentally. 

“So was it just my voicemail that brought you back, or were Tony’s tears requited?”

Bruce gave a peculiarly dry laugh, but she was glad to see another hint of the kind smile she remembered. It flashed in her direction for only a moment before he directed it back out the window. She saw its reflection fade into a thin line. 

“Well, actually…” He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his curly hair. He needed a haircut, she recognized distantly. “Is Natasha here?” 

The words _I knew it_ emerged from a far corner of Pepper’s mind, and she wasn’t proud of the fact. Suppressing the grin that threatened to curl indiscriminately across her face was a struggle, but Pepper smoothed down her reaction and answered him simply. 

“She was here last night. FRIDAY?”

“Ms. Romanoff is still in the Tower,” FRIDAY answered instantly. “In fact, she just inquired about the visitor and I informed her that Dr. Banner was here. I believe she is on her way to this office.” 

Bruce’s face underwent a transformation that Pepper thought would defy even his ability to scientifically describe. His crumpled look of weariness tightened into something like fear, but it was too bright around the edges for that simple label. She could almost feel his nervous energy thrumming like an electric current in the air around them. He looked far more animated and alive than he had just a moment before.

Pepper abruptly decided to make herself scarce. Bruce was staring fixedly at the door to the office and didn’t spare her a glance when she stood. She had made it halfway to the door when her curiosity just barely overpowered her good sense. 

“So you and Natasha…” she mused, unable to completely keep the satisfaction from her voice. She hoped he would rise to the bait and look a little less like a man waiting for his executioner. Her hopes were only halfway realized; he met her eyes with the look of a man who was waiting for the executioner and was equal parts eager and terrified for the experience. He shrugged stiffly, his eyes gravitating back towards the door.

“I don’t know,” he said. A hint of good humor flared like a distant spark in his eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t know what you were trying to do. At the opera,” he clarified in response to her furrowed brows. 

Oh. 

That.

Pepper felt a wave of embarrassment, but she waved it off and smiled at him in apology. “It would have been hard to miss it, with the way I threw the situation at you. I’m sorry, by the way. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Bruce’s nod and easy smile put a definitive end to the matter. The smile faded before he spoke again.

“Do you think I did?” he asked, his eyes pinned to the door again.

“Did what?”

“Miss it.” His voice was low and uncertain.

Natasha was the only person who knew the answer to that question, so Pepper didn’t attempt to reply. As though prompted by her thoughts, FRIDAY announced: “Ms. Romanoff is waiting outside, Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY. Give us a moment.” She moved to stand in front of Bruce, and he finally managed to wrench his eyes away from the closed door of her office. 

“Why don’t you ask her and find out?” she suggested, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. Bruce looked embarrassed by the affection, as always, and Pepper realized all at once how much she had missed having him around. 

She glanced over his ragged appearance one last time and shook her head. “Hold still,” she instructed, and reached up to ruffle his hair just slightly. “Perfect,” she declared. Bruce smiled.

“I’ll let you two talk,” she said over her shoulder as she crossed to the door. She paused with her fingers on the knob. “Bruce?”

He looked so lost standing in the middle of her office, a worn man in the midst of so much that was polished, drifting when everything around him was anchored. He’d always been like that, she reflected, but it still made her heart ache. She hoped whatever happened between him and Natasha would calm the bewildered look in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said by way of farewell, and gave him an encouraging smile as she slipped through the door.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she turned to find Natasha Romanoff waiting in the hallway. She stood with her arms crossed, her posture stiff and professional despite the fact that she was wearing a very normal set of gym clothes. 

“He’s here,” Natasha stated, and Pepper couldn’t help but notice that her businesslike voice was a little shakier than usual. Her eyes were nailed to the closed door over Pepper’s shoulder. She shifted a little, but didn’t step forward. “What did he say?” she asked instead.

“He asked for you,” Pepper answered, restraining the gentle tone she wanted to use. She didn’t think Natasha would appreciate it. “I’m leaving anyway, so the office is yours. Take all the time you need.”

She made it halfway down the hall to Tony’s office before she heard the door to her own open behind her. It occurred to her that in all the time she had known that young woman, first as the cool and professional assistant Natalie Rushman and later as the SHIELD agent Natasha Romanoff, she had never once seen her look afraid. Not until just now, standing in front of an office with a single occupant.

Well, there was a first time for everything.

* * *

She worked from the computer in the office Tony insisted he needed, even though he no longer managed the company that bore his name. It was perfunctory and barely furnished. She wasn’t sure he’d even been in here since it had been built. 

Several minutes passed; she sighed when she finally remembered the breakfast and coffee now abandoned on her desk. The nearest kitchen was on one of the Avengers’ domestic floors, so she followed the empty halls to the nearest elevator.

The hallways were deserted and silent, but that wasn’t particularly surprising. The newest roster of Avengers were at the upstate facility as often as not, and when they were in the Tower, it was usually for meetings that were not held on the domestic floors. 

It came as quite a surprise when she heard a number of voices as she approached the kitchen. 

“I don’t believe this…” It was Tony’s voice.

Bruce had returned and Tony was awake at dawn, expressing a lack of comprehension. 

It was a day of miracles all around.

Pepper glanced through the open doorway into the industrial-sized kitchen. Most of the Avengers old and new were congregated around the large silver counter in the center of the kitchen, all of them hunched around one of Tony’s tablets. Pepper couldn’t make out the image dancing across the screen.

The click of her heels against the tiled floor drew the collective gaze of the team. “Good morning,” she called as she sifted through the cabinet for a fresh mug. 

“Good morning, honey,” Tony replied without looking at her. “Grab some coffee and come look at this.”

“Do I _want_ to look at whatever that is?” she asked as she slid her mug under the coffee maker.

“Yes,” Tony answered without a hint of doubt. “Pepper, you’re not going to believe this.” He did sound genuinely amazed, she had to admit. Maybe she could spare a moment.

"We really shouldn't be watching this," Steve muttered, and the weariness in his voice made it sound as though it wasn’t the first time he’d made the statement. He leaned against a counter, his arms crossed, and his face arranged into an expression of martyrdom. It was a common look for those who dealt with Tony on a daily basis. Pepper shot him a sympathetic smile as she approached the bizarre team huddle. Before Steve could smile back, Tony slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into orbit with the rest of them. 

“Honey,” he started, slipping the coffee cup from her fingers and swapping it for his razor-thin screen, “Take a look at this.”

Pepper blinked down at the video stream playing between her hands.

The stream displayed a view of her office. Bruce had moved into the center of the room and Natasha had met him there. They were standing very close, talking intensely about something, and Pepper realized with horror that this was _live_. 

“Tony,” she said evenly. “What are you doing?”

Tony reclaimed the screen. “FRIDAY told me Bruce was back, I asked her where he was, and look what she showed me.” He held up the screen and every eye followed it.

Of all the juvenile, immature, privacy-violating stunts to pull… 

She was just thankful that their building-wide security cams had no audio.

“Tony, this is —“

Her reasonable statement shattered like so much glass when Natasha leaned in to kiss Bruce on the screen Tony was holding over all their heads. The polished steel surfaces magnified the collective gasp until it rushed around them like a gust of wind.

"Did you see that?" Maria Hill hissed. "This isn’t the first time they've kissed. The way he reacted to her — it's like he _knows_ how she kisses."

Tony pulled the screen back towards his face and stared at it in disbelief. ” _Bruce Banner_  knows how  _Natasha Romanoff_  kisses?" His words sounded as though they had barely made it out of his constricted throat. "She's got the best poker face I've ever seen, but how the hell did  _he_  keep that quiet?”

Clint was stationed at Tony’s left elbow, his hollow look giving the impression of a man who had seen far too much. It wasn’t surprising, considering the close friendship between him and Natasha. He must feel like a man watching his sister kiss someone. Pepper recognized the look he wore. Tony even had a name for it.

PDA PTSD.

Clint remained silent and faintly shell-shocked. He didn’t see the sympathetic look Pepper gave him. 

Steve hovered on the fringes of the impromptu roundtable. ”I’ve seen them flirt," he interjected suddenly. A look of regret flooded his face when every eye turned to him. 

"Do tell," Tony prompted immediately, but his eyes drifted back to the tablet. "Wow, they're still going at it.” He raised an eyebrow. “Nice technique.”

"I really don't think we should —“ Steve's protest was drowned out by a loud and unanimous  _shush._  

Pepper was about to offer her support to Steve’s suggestion when she made the mistake of glancing at the video feed. She blinked. Wow, they were…serious. The kitchen fell into intent silence for a long moment.

Natasha and Bruce finally broke apart and seemed to be talking again, albeit with their arms still wrapped around each other. Tony finally returned his attention to Steve. "You were saying, Captain?" 

Steve sighed with the air of a man being led to the gallows. “They used to spend a lot of time together," he began in a defeated tone. “And at the party just before Ultron…they were flirting." 

"Bad jokes flirting or quickie in the closet flirting?" Tony asked immediately. 

Steve's revolted look melted instantly into weary resignation. "The first one, I guess. I didn't hear what they were saying, but their faces were pretty hard to miss. They had the look."

"The look?" Clint asked, speaking at last. Pepper still thought he looked vaguely ill.

"The look people get when they…when they fall in love," Steve explained quietly, and his eyes drifted away from the screen and turned pensive.

Tony looked as though Steve's revulsion had been transferred to him and he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “And that sly bastard never breathed a word. You can't trust the quiet types, I'm telling you." He propped the tablet on the counter and crossed his arms as a storm gathered on his face. "I poked fun at them, but I didn't think they actually had anything going on…” His eyes widened in a moment of epiphany.

“There’s no way they got away with this,” he muttered, turning to stare at the rest of the team, his arms still sternly crossed. "Okay, come clean. Who else knew?" 

"Don't look at me," Clint replied, waving off Tony's suspicions when he was the first to feel the heat of his stare. "I was in the dark until Laura said something. She picked up on it right away." 

Tony threw up his hands and addressed his next comment to the ceiling. "Earth's Mightiest Heroes! How did we miss this?" A round of head-shaking was his only answer. 

"Agent Hill," Tony said, zeroing in on his next target. "You said they've been up to this —“ he pointed at the screen where Bruce and Natasha were once again locked into what looked like a very passionate kiss “ — for a while. What..." he paused and gestured helplessly for a moment, as though trying to find the words hanging in midair waiting for him. "How...when..." he settled on that one. "When did they even have time?"

"Beats me," Maria shrugged, her customary composure firmly in place. "You guys were the ones who went on all the missions with both of them. So you tell me."

“It’s not like _this_ ,” he gestured again at Bruce and Natasha embracing on the screen, “Was part of the Code Green protocol!” 

“You sure?” Maria asked flatly.

“Helpful as always, Agent Hill,” Tony griped, his eyes searching for another target. 

“Okay, new guys,” he looked at Vision, Wanda, Sam, and Rhodey expectantly. “Time to join the team discussion. Weigh in.” The newest additions to the Avengers were grouped together, wearing expressions that varied from impassive to uncomfortable to bored. Pepper suddenly felt a sharp stab of pity for the new recruits. Fighting super-powered threats to the world was one thing, but being drafted into Tony’s gossip squad was another level of trauma entirely. She sighed.

“Don’t look at me,” Sam protested, “I barely know Romanoff and Banner.”

“Your friend, am I right?” Tony asked Steve, without pulling his evaluating gaze from Sam. Steve nodded silently. “Not an impressive recruit so far. No initiative,” Tony declared.

“Initiative? You mean gossip and speculation,” Sam said blankly. He looked unimpressed, and Steve looked as though he was counting to ten very slowly in his head, but Tony had already breezed on.

“Rhodey?” 

“No,” Colonel Rhodes responded. His flat tone and flatter gaze indicating that his patience with Tony Stark was a well that had long since run dry.

“Okay, then,” Tony replied with the same cheerful tone he might have used if Rhodey had spoken warmly. He glanced fleetingly at Wanda, but his pointed finger faltered at her cold stare and landed on Vision instead.

“My pride and joy,” he began, pressing his hand to his chest like a proud father. “Did you know that your other father was carrying on with Romanoff?”

Pepper’s lips twitched at the title “father.” She wasn’t sure how Bruce would feel about the fact that Tony had declared the two of them as co-parents to Vision, and she also wasn’t sure how accurate a description it was. From what she had heard, Dr. Helen Cho was heavily involved in the process, as well as Ultron. Of course, it’s not like either of them were going to sue for custody. As it was, Vision made no protest to Tony’s attitude towards him, and for that reason, along with his unmistakeable voice, Pepper sometimes wondered how much of Jarvis was in the strange creature that Tony had helped create. 

“I did not know,” Vision answered Tony at last, his face as smooth and serene as always. “I was not present during the time this would have happened. But I think it is good that Dr. Banner has found love. He has led a very isolated life and that is not his natural disposition.”

“Sure,” Tony answered. “But you’ve got some of Jarvis’ memory, and he must have seen something…” 

“I am afraid not,” Vision replied placidly.

“No one knew?” Tony muttered in exasperation. “Okay, I’m going straight to the top.” He pulled out his phone and tapped and scrolled until he found the number he wanted. He held up the phone; it rang three times before Nick Fury’s voice emerged.

“What do you want, Stark?”

“Just a quick question, Nick. Did you know that Banner and Romanoff were having a secret love affair?”

There was a long and ominous silence. “You’re on speaker, by the way,” Tony added as an afterthought. 

“Stark,” Fury’s voice returned at last, brimming with something between anger and exasperation. “Did you call me to ask about Dr. Banner’s love life?”

“Yes,” Tony replied without hesitation. 

Or shame.

Pepper suppressed a groan. She glanced at the half-forgotten screen in the center of their huddle, and was relieved to see that Bruce and Natasha had put a little distance between themselves and were talking again. She’d had quite enough voyeurism for one day.

A weary sigh poured from the phone, mirroring her feelings exactly. 

“Yeah, I knew,” Fury answered at last, and Pepper wondered whether he was surrendering to the fact that the only way to stop Tony was to give him what he wanted. It was one of his strengths. It was also one of his most pronounced weaknesses. “I sent her to recruit him because I thought they’d get a kick out of each other,” Fury added without prompting. 

Pepper stared at the phone and wondered how Hydra had managed to remain undetected in the SHIELD ranks when the organization was filled with unapologetic gossips.

Tony was unamused, however, and leveled a look of righteous indignation at the phone in his hand. “Don’t you ever get tired of being right?” he muttered in disgust.

“No,” Fury replied in a voice that was audibly smug.

Never satisfied to let anyone else have the last word, smug or not, Tony pressed on. “So do you set all your agents up on dates, or —”

“Stark, I really don’t have time for you right now.” Fury’s satisfaction had been replaced by irritation and Tony grinned. 

“Thanks for your time. Your answers were as clear and helpful as always, Director Infuriating.” Fury’s sigh was cut off when Tony hung up.

“How did we miss this?” he asked in a tone of existential despair, and looked at Pepper as though she might have the answers.

“Boss?” FRIDAY’s voice floated through the room. 

“Yeah?” he replied absently, snatching up the tablet and tapping at a few blinking indicators. Pepper realized that he was trying to zoom in. She held out an expectant hand and glared at him until he reluctantly surrendered it. 

Deprived of his toy, Tony finally gave FRIDAY his full attention when she announced: “Dr. Cho is here, sir.”

“Tell her the meeting is up here,” Tony answered with a grin. “I need my screen back,” he said under his breath. 

“No,” she replied sweetly.

“Please?”

“ _No_.”

“Okay, everyone,” Tony announced to the room, changing tactics without breaking his mental stride. “I need some help here. How did Bruce end up with Natasha? Let’s ballpark some scenarios. I need theories.”

“Tony,” Pepper warned, but he only offered a charming smile in reply. 

“He’s a smart, good-looking guy and she’s a smart, beautiful girl. What’s not to understand?” Maria asked, looking very bored. 

“Yes, but he’s…and she’s…wait. Did you say ‘good-looking’?”

“Yeah,” Maria answered flatly. 

“You think Banner is good-looking?” Tony looked vaguely confused. 

“Just because he doesn’t treat dating like an olympic sport doesn’t mean that he’s not —” Maria paused and shrugged, “— a contender.”

“She has a point,” Pepper agreed, half because Maria was right, and half because she knew the exact look of wounded ire that Tony would send her way. The look came as expected and she smiled innocently at him. 

“What do you think, Dr. Cho?” Pepper asked when the doctor slid into the kitchen with a look of disbelief. 

“Think about what?” she asked. “Why are we meeting in a kitchen?”

“Both questions have to do with Banner,” Tony explained unhelpfully. “So answer quickly: is Bruce…” He trailed off and looked confused.

“Cute?” Pepper supplied instantly. “He’s cute, right? I think so.”

“That’s the perfect word for it,” Maria agreed with a nod. 

Dr. Cho glanced between the two of them with the expression someone might wear upon wandering into a parallel but very opposite universe. Her gaze landed on Tony’s irritated expression and Pepper saw the moment she understood their mission. Dr. Cho hesitated, and her no-nonsense expression made Pepper think that she might wash her hands of the ridiculous conversation. But Pepper had observed that Dr. Cho never let a chance to take Tony’s ego down a few notches pass her by, so she held out hope that maybe she would back them up. After a long moment, Dr. Cho shrugged. 

“Dr. Banner is one of the most brilliant men I have ever worked with. And he is also, as you said, cute.” Her smile toward Pepper was just the barest twitch of the lips. 

“There you go,” Pepper declared, “Bruce is handsome and charming —“

“Oh, he’s charming too?” Tony muttered, looking more and more like a man standing in a hurricane.

“— and sweet,” she finished. “So the fact that he and Natasha…well, it’s not that surprising.” 

“But…how…” Tony protested.

“Oh please, Tony,” Pepper interrupted in irritation. “Bruce isn’t romantically challenged! He’s just quiet and out of the way. If he half-tried, I bet he could charm more of the room than you and Thor combined.”

Tony’s look of open-mouthed astonishment was a memory she would forever treasure. Maria was trying to disguise the fact that she was laughing into her hand, Steve, Sam, and Clint were suppressing smirks with varying success, Rhodey was laughing openly, and Wanda and Vision looked bored — or impassive. Pepper couldn’t tell which.

Dr. Cho looked skeptical about the Thor portion of the remark but, to her credit, she said nothing. 

"This really wouldn't surprise me, but maybe Natasha just has sharper eyes than you do,” Pepper concluded, with a rush of righteous indignation. She lifted her hand to point at Tony, and the tablet came with it.

She realized abruptly that she had neglected to turn it off. She fumbled for the power switch, mourning the loss of her triumphant moment. Oh well, Tony always gave her plenty of opportunities for those. 

Finding the power switch at last, Pepper glanced down — and realized that the office depicted on the screen was empty. 

“You’re right, Ms. Potts,” came Natasha’s voice from the doorway. “I do have sharp eyes.” Pepper hastily slid the tablet behind her back and pressed the off switch. 

Natasha and Bruce stood side by side in the doorway, their hands so close that she suspected they had been clasped together only seconds before.

“There’s a team meeting, right?” Natasha asked into the stifling silence. 

“Right,” said Tony, recovering from embarrassment far more quickly than the rest of the team. Pepper was sure it was due to copious amounts of practice with the sensation. “Let’s move this party to the conference room. Hi, Bruce,” he tacked on without preamble.

“Hi, Tony,” Bruce replied. Pepper thought that Bruce’s smile was a huge improvement over the strained version she’d seen earlier. 

The Avengers filed out of the kitchen and Pepper handed Tony his tablet. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she admonished. 

“Banner is ‘cute’?” he countered, but she heard no real resentment in his tone.

“Well, somebody had to take his side. And you brought this whole conversation on yourself when you decided that surveillance was an acceptable means of communication.”

“Pandora’s box,” Tony muttered to himself, staring at the powered down tablet. He looked as though the words “handsome” and “cute” were echoing in his head. She imagined that the grimace he wore was due to the fact that those words had not been describing _him_.

“Besides, Bruce and Natasha — it’s really not that surprising,” Pepper continued. “I’m glad they made it work. I was hoping things would be okay.” She paused when Tony’s gaze turned icy. “What?”

“You _knew_ about this,” he accused.

“I had suspicions,” she admitted. “As far as I can tell, they’ve had a thing for a long time.” The expression Tony wore when he didn’t understand something was a sight Pepper almost never saw, so when the rare expression broke over his face, she decided a little fun was in order. 

“Tony,” she began, speaking to him as if he were a very young child. “He’s one of your best friends — didn’t _you_ know?”

He looked as though he might resort to pouting, but the moment passed. “Apparently, I don’t know anything,” he replied with a shrug and set the blank tablet onto the polished steel countertop. He passed her the long-forgotten mug of coffee and raised his own in a toast. “To happiness. Wherever and whoever it might be.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Pepper replied with a smile. The coffee was cold, and she was probably going to be late to the board meeting, but Tony kissed her and she forgot to mind. 

He snagged her hand with his as they left the kitchen. The hall outside was mostly deserted; Bruce and Natasha were the only members of the team who had lingered in front of the elevators. She caught the last bit of their conversation as they approached. 

“Guess we didn’t miss our window,” Natasha commented.

Bruce nodded, and Pepper could see the light in his eyes even from her distance. “What’s the saying? When God closes a door…” 

Natasha snorted. “ _You_ shut that door,” she interrupted. “And I’m not sure that calling yourself a god is a great idea, even if you did take Loki down.” She smirked and Bruce laughed as he slid an arm around Natasha’s shoulders.

Tony sighed loudly. “You didn’t hug _me_ , Bruce.”

“Get in line,” Natasha interjected, and curled her arm securely around Bruce’s waist.

“I’ll hug you later, Tony,” Bruce offered with a grin.

Tony waved him off and sighed dramatically. “No, no, the moment’s gone,” he said mournfully, but Pepper noted the light in his smile and knew how glad he was to have his friend back. 

Bruce glanced in her direction, and Pepper met his gaze. It took her a moment to identify his expression as contentment. She couldn’t quite help her grin, despite the fact that it felt horribly smug on her face. Bruce mirrored her smile and turned back to face the elevator, pressing a kiss to Natasha’s temple in passing and making it look like the easiest thing in the world. Pepper wondered what had happened to the uncertain man who had been in her office only minutes earlier. 

Pepper was smug and Bruce was nonchalant — what was becoming of them all? 

She ought to blame Tony as a bad influence; smugness and nonchalance were two of his primary calling cards. But, she considered, maybe in this case they weren’t such bad things. 

She pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek. “This is where I leave you,” she explained when he glanced her way. He looked like he might protest, so she cut him off with, “Company to run. Yours, in fact.” He couldn’t argue with that. The elevator was opening anyway.

Bruce Banner had been back for less than an hour when he stepped into the elevator with Natasha and Tony and went to join the team. The doors closed on Bruce’s smile, Natasha’s smirk, and Tony’s sigh. Whether he was aiming it at her for leaving him or at Natasha and Bruce for not letting go of each other for a moment, she wasn’t sure, but she had no sympathy, either way. No matter how much he engaged in dramatics, Tony was happy that Bruce was back. 

As she made her way back to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, she reflected that she was glad, too. She had always liked Bruce Banner. 

**

THE END

**


End file.
